


Shades of Insanity

by Durrburr



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Dark Comedy, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Insanity, More Insanity, None of that explicitly shown, SS isn't main character, Sarcasm, Self-Harm, Steven The Molerat, Steven also wears a Top hat!, Swearing, Violence, lots of implied stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-12-20 06:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 54,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11914782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Durrburr/pseuds/Durrburr
Summary: “I'm just a puppet on a string. I had an identity. Past tense. She ripped it all away from me and now she's the puppeteer. Everything I was is now gone. Irrelevant.”I ignored the look of horror on her face, and tried to focus on her words.“What did she do to you?”My foggy mind centred on the gun in my hand. Pointed at my friend. I had no idea if I wanted to do this. Did it matter? I was just a husk.“What didn't she do?” I laughed, throwing my head back. I was well and truly insane. Everybody knew that. But as I stood there, bleeding, broken, I tried to ponder on how things came to this.I tried to.But I was just a puppet. Pathetic. Worthless. My free will had gone along with everything else. I couldn't think. Maybe I would regret what I was going to do.I grinned. My once sarcastic smile twisted into a cruel smirk. I spun the chamber, and pointed it at my head.“Let's play a game.”





	1. Hubris

 

 Snarls and shrieks broke the silence of the ruined comic book store, which was nothing more than a remnant of a forgotten age. Of course, the good thing is that forgotten places usually had valuable things in them. Caps? Guns? Power armour? That's what the hopeful scavvers searched for in pre-war buildings, but they never truly appreciated old comics. The ferals did, though. Stumbling over each other, they clambered down the stairs, eager to sink their teeth into the poor unfortunate that walked through the door, but I wasn't exactly ready to be eaten. The moment they were a few metres away, I pulled the trigger, hoping to hit at least one of the shamblers. For corpses, they sure were agile. Smiling as I saw one of the ghouls’ head splatter on the others followed by a chorus of vengeful screams, I fired at the remaining three, knowing my brief success was just a fluke.

 Dodging my bullets, they threw themselves at me, their rotten heavy bodies pinning me down. The hungry bastards tried to gnaw on my left arm, only to have their bodies filled with lead. Another feral went down, slumping itself conveniently against a bookshelf so it didn't crush me like the others did with their combined weight. One feral was light, but two was a bit much.

 “Six rounds really aren't enough.” I thought to myself, knowing that I needed to reload, before wincing in pain as a ghoul sunk it's jagged teeth into my leg. Kicking it off with my good leg, I swatted the other feral that was still unsuccessfully trying to rip my arm from it's socket with my revolver, praying that I didn't cause any damage to the dull gun.

 As soon as the mindless animals were off of me, I swiftly got up, ignoring the pain that flared through my leg. As I limped quickly to the store counter, I could hear the shrieks of the ghouls I had managed to escape from. It was wishful thinking that a pistol whip would be enough to kill anything. One of the ferals slowly shuffled over to me, thinking that it had outsmarted me with it's fake signs of weakness. I knew otherwise. Ferociously it lunged for my throat, but instead it was it's neck that was in danger, which it soon realised once I had my hands around it.

Disgustingly, the thing was little more than skin and bones, meaning that it was as light as a child, despite it being the same height as me. Using its lightness to my advantage, I applied more pressure to it's throat, turning the chilling shriek of a monster into little more than a strangled whimper, and I bashed it's head on the counter top. After hearing a satisfying crunch, almost like the sound of a mirelurk egg being cracked, I threw the dead corpse onto the living corpse, startling it mid-leap. Picking up the dented and rusty, but more importantly heavy, cash register, I stood over the flailing ghoul.

 I laughed as I dropped the cash register on it's peeling skull.

 Exhaustion swept over me like a blanket, and I leant against the bloody counter, gasping and wheezing. A small pool of crimson dripped from my wound, and I could barely walk now that the adrenaline had worn off. Inspecting my leg, I realised that the bite had taken a chunk of my flesh away, all the way down to the bone. _And_ it ruined my favourite, and only, pair of jeans. Shit. Checking my pockets, I found a small syringe, hopefully med-x or psycho, and aimed it at my leg. This was going to hurt. Injecting it near the wound, I bit my lip as pain surged through my leg, before a soothing numbness replaced it. It was definitely med-x, I knew this because I didn't start foaming at the mouth.  Again, I rummaged through my pockets as I made my way to the door, producing an opened pack of gumdrops. Gingerly, I picked up the bag I had left by the door moments before I was attacked by the ghouls, thoughtlessly putting a faded red gumdrop in my mouth. If anyone had seen the face I made when I tasted it, they probably would have died laughing, or from a bullet in the heart. Scrunching my face, I searched the room quietly, careful not to make a sound just in case there were more ferals around. I had no intentions of dying while trying to find fucking comics. Triumphantly, I found a few eligible Grognak comics, as well as a Grognak the Barbarian action figure, that was sadly missing an arm. Throwing the items into my bag, a big pink schoolbag that children used to carry books and other unnecessary stuff in before the bombs dropped, I made my way upstairs, reloading my gun. I'm fairly sure the kid that owned the bag didn't mind me using the flowery carrier.

 Optimistically I thought that there would be less ghouls. Realistically, I knew I was screwed as soon as they poured out of the walls. Pessimistically, I started to shoot at them recklessly, convinced that this was my final stand. At least ten ghouls were staring at me hungrily. One dropped instantly, and that set off the others; if it wasn't for their clumsiness and disorganisation, I would have been a very delicious morsel to them. A cluster of them tripped over each other, and ended up falling down the stairs, and by the snapping that I heard, I was fairly sure some of them had died in that hilarious stunt.

 The remaining ghouls looked as stunned as I was, their glassy eyes flickering to the pile of writhing mutants at the bottom of the stairs, enabling me to quickly pull a grenade from my belt. Before I could do anything with it, the confused ferals snapped out of their daze and charged at me. With feral ghouls, they were one trick ponies, whatever ponies were, and all they did was charge at people, without a clue of what they were doing. So call me unsurprised when I saw the ghoul in front of me dash towards me, not even aware until it joined the fuck ton of ghouls tangled together that I had side stepped away from it.

 Instantly, pain returned to my leg and I crumpled to the floor. Now was not the time for this! Gritting my teeth, I shakily aimed at the charging freaks in front of me, ashamed that it took six pulls of the damn trigger to kill them. I clumsily pulled the pin from the grenade that I desperately clutched, throwing it down the stairs as fast as my body allowed it; an unceremonious explosion soon followed, sending body parts everywhere, and giving the walls a new paint job.

 Whether from the gore fest or the dizzying pain, I vomited. Heaving, I grimaced as I saw multiple gumdrops leave my mouth and fall onto the floor, their vibrant colours stewing in the puddle of bile. That was annoying, I really enjoyed that apple gumdrop earlier, but I wasn't upset to see the strawberry one go. Pre-war fruits sounded strange. Fumbling through my pockets, I frantically searched for something to help numb the pain. When that proved useless, I searched the bag, ignoring the unopened bottle of whiskey screaming at me. Finally, at the very depths of the bag, sat a single syringe. I honestly didn't care what the hell it was, even if it was something that would kill me, at least it would end the pain. I really needed to stop picking up random needles, in the hopes that it could be helpful, but then again, I'd be dead otherwise. I obviously regretted it as soon as I realised what was in the needle, until the regret was replaced with hate as the psycho entered my bloodstream.

 Seething, I rushed up the next flight of stairs, still gripping the syringe tightly in my hand. The first ghoul that dared to face me was immediately stabbed in the face with the needle, and I pushed the corpse down the stairs, it's severed arm in my hand. I don't even know how I got the ghoul’s arm, but I didn't care. I was just so fucking **_angry._** Like an unstoppable force ** _,_** I rushed across what appeared to be a film set- honestly I wasn't paying attention- and leapt onto a sleeping ghoul, beating it with the arm I held. It's pitiful cries woke up the others, including a verdant green one, it's glowing radiation filled pus bags severely pissing me off.

 Snarling, my weapon connected with the glowing one's chest, spraying a green slime onto my hands. Ignoring the possibly lethal green stuff, I continuously pummeled the bastard with the arm, until I grew frustrated and mauled it with my fists. By the time I was done, it was almost like I had bathed in nuclear waste, but there was no pain, only anger and the desire to find those stupid comics.

 Good to see that even when I'm on psycho I don't let anything stand in my way for bright pictures and good stories. They reminded me of a stolen childhood that I would never get back, but aside from that, they were as addictive as whiskey, and since I promised not to drink any…

 Well, that's why I was in a run down building knee deep in blood, some of which was my own.

 I honestly wished for a saving grace, something that would make getting to the nearest settlement easier, but I didn't need a stim to get anywhere. The years of abuse and suffering saw to that. Thoroughly, I practically overturned the room looking for something worthwhile, but a wig, a wrench and some glue wasn't exactly worthwhile. But it wasn't until I found a stack of mint condition Unstoppable comics, each sealed in their own little plastic cover. Joy overwhelmed the hatred and I would have danced if not for the hole in my leg, so I instead fondly packed each gleaming gem into my bag, and limped downstairs.

 Where was the nearest settlement again?

 

* * *

 

 

Walking to “Diamond City” was painful, to say the least. No chems, no stims, no help. Any normal wastelander would have died by now, but I wasn't normal. The ruthless whips sure beat the weakness out of me. The bag was familiarly heavy, like carrying a pile of rocks, it would have been even more fun if there was someone behind me kicking me and hurling abuse. Just like old times. Shaking my head, I gazed at the Commonwealth sky. Streaks of purple, orange, even green danced across the night sky, the dazzling stars a distant beacon of hope and beauty. The natural light was ruined by the light from the Great Green Jewel. Diamond City.

 I'd heard about it when I was travelling from the Capital Wasteland, and I thought it was a tale. It seemed farfetched that an entire city was protected by a giant green wall, where everyone was happy and had enough food and drink. Almost seemed too good to be true. That's because it was. Any _truly_ functional settlement had to have some superiority, and the common hatred for Ghouls seeped into Boston. Even worse was the fear of synthetic people. Synths the locals called them. Fear and paranoia ran rampant and I suspected that there were weekly, if not daily, accusations of someone being replaced by a machine, a spy for the mysterious Institute.

 The Institute, NCR, the Legion, the Enclave. They were all the same. The same tyranny but with different ways of expressing it. NCR shackled the people with bureaucracy, a failed ideal from the old world, the Legion wanted to free the people by culling the weak. At least the Enclave outright hated people. They didn't fuck around. I would have thought about it more had I not been bleeding out and dizzy. The scenery melted together, and it was all a blur, like I wasn't even in control of my own body. To be fair, I wasn't exactly trustworthy with anything precious. It was all a “fuck you” to life, really. I'd been shot, stabbed, tortured, but I wasn't gonna let bloody shamblers kill me!

 Uncertainly, I stumbled through Diamond City’s main gate, earning a few odd looks from the guards that didn't wear helmets, especially one that was in denial about his hair and wore the same wig I found in the building I was just in. As soon as I entered the city, I caught my breath, which was bad considering I was essentially dying. I all but crawled to what appeared to be the market, where a heavenly neon sign of a red cross span around lazily. The doctor looked less than impressed with me bleeding all over him.

Even less when I vomited again.

I'd been in the Commonwealth less than a week, but I was happy, or as happy as a dying man could be. The good doctor started to cut my trousers, revealing the full extent of the damage. Green pus oozed from the wound, and I couldn't focus on what he was saying, only words like “sceptic” and “lucky”. I was going to wrack up quite the bill. Hazily, I spied a kid waving a piece of paper around, ranting about something or other, and I caught the sign saying “Publick Occurrences”.

 As I started to lose consciousness, I thought of the worst thing possible.

 

They misspelt Public.


	2. Diamond City Shenanigans

 

I woke up feeling terrible. Apparently med-x and psycho weren't the greatest mix. Observing me coolly, the doctor, who appeared to be what the propaganda called the “red menace”, or more commonly Chinese, squinted at me, before helping me sit up. The metal gurney I sat on felt cold against my calloused hands, sending a tiny shiver up my back, and added to my bare leg, I was feeling unusually cold. The wound appeared to look better, but I doubted I'd be able to walk anywhere for a while. I was proven correct when I tried to stand up and my leg buckled beneath me.

 Gripping my shoulders and hauling my sorry ass off the floor, the doctor tutted and placed me back on the gurney.

“You're lucky to be alive,” he solemnly informed me with his thick accent, “what were you thinking taking med-x, _and_ psycho before it left your bloodstream?!” I shrugged, reaching for my bag on the surgical table, and pulling out one of the protected Grognak comics. Upon the doctor seeing it, his eyes bulged and he groaned.

“You nearly died for a book?!” he hissed.

“I've nearly died for less.” I responded, sifting through the bag to find some caps to pay him with.

“You're crazy, which is why I need you to fill out this form, I have a funny feeling you're going to be a frequent patient of mine.” he muttered, handing me a pen and a series of papers filled with questions.

“Well then doc, don't suppose you'll tell me your name?” I grinned nonchalantly.

“Doctor Sun, and your accent is strange, where are you from?” Now that was the million cap question. Where was I from? It wasn't a surprise that English people weren't exactly common, but I thought that someone with an exotic accent like mine would at least understand the value of not pointing it out. Clearly the doctor didn't believe in bedside manners.

 “Nowhere you'd know of.” I chuckled vaguely, concentrating on filling out the form. Deliberately, I scribbled “N/A” on most of the questions, and filled out the remaining questions as best I could. My favourite question had to be “Is there any history of insanity in your family?”. I hastily removed the “in” from “insanity” and wrote “none whatsoever”. Grinning, I handed back the sheet of paper, ignoring Doctor Sun’s frown as he read it.

“Your name is Grimm?” he asked, scowling.

“Yup.” I nodded, giving him a handful of caps as I hopped off of the gurney and walking towards Publick Occurrences, where I saw the girl from yesterday. Everybody was inquisitive about my name, among other things.

  ** _You're a grim child._**

 

* * *

 

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I cautiously walked over to the girl, careful not to apply pressure to my leg. It was obviously stupid of me to walk away from the man who saved my life, but I was already tired of the personal questions. I assumed that he was going to give me medication, but I was having none of it. Self preservation wasn't high on my to-do list. Besides, I didn't need any fancy stuff, I just needed to take it easy. Maybe be just stroll around the city and try and find an easy job, preferably something that made me able to buy food, and especially something that didn't require running around. It was a niche market. Suspiciously, the kid who stood on some sort of upturned box and waved around a newspaper stopped talking and looked at me.

“Whad’ya want newcomer? Here to buy a paper, if the Institute grabs you in the night, at least we warned you.” she told me, thrusting the paper in my face. Well wasn't she just a little ray of sunshine? Still, being kept up to date with local affairs could be useful, and I couldn't say no to the girl.

 “Sure kid.” I smiled, taking the paper from her hands.

“The name’s Nat, and that’ll be ten caps.” she returned my smile, holding her hands out expectantly. Shrugging my bag off my shoulders, I searched for the remaining caps, which were undoubtedly at the bottom of the bag and non existent, when an idea struck me.

“I don't have any caps,” I explained sweetly, putting my hands together, “but how about I give you something better?” Clearly, the offer tempted the child.

 “Better?” she repeated, eyebrows raised. I grinned at her, revealing a few crumpled comics and the Grognak action figure. For a moment, excitement overwhelmed her features, before returning to her mature expression and posture.

“I suppose that will work.” she said slyly, gratitude in her eyes. Handing her what might has well have been treasure, I found myself confused.

“So Nat, do you run this place yourself?” I inquired, looking at the paper in my hand.

“Nah, my older sister runs it, she's amazing and I wanna be like her someday!” she proclaimed, joyful pride on her young face. I adjusted my sunglasses awkwardly, fearing that her sister was probably dead, which explained her absence.

“And where is your sister?”

“She's out at the moment, somethin’ to do with rescuin’ mister Valentine.”

“Mister Valentine?”

 Nat looked at me like I was stupid.

 “Yeah, the detective! **_Everybody_ ** knows him!” she groaned, rolling her eyes. This was news to me. If there was a detective, that would mean there'd be easy cases, right? Shadowing people, investigating affairs and thefts, stuff the guards wouldn't have the time to do. And if he was missing, that meant there'd be cases piling up, and if I could solve them, then I could get paid. This was only a guess, I didn't know if there was anybody who could hand out caps besides the client and detective, maybe a secretary, like from one of those old detective novels, but I was desperate for food and new jeans, considering one leg of my current pair was shorter than the other.

 “Where would you usually find the detective?” I asked Nat.

“Down the street, the building with the heart sign, you can't miss it.” she directed me with her hand, pointing to an alley.

“Cheers.” I replied, ready to set off to see if my hypothesis was correct.

“You sound strange mister.” Nat giggled bluntly. I had to appreciate the honesty of kids.

“I get that a lot.” I laughed, bowing dramatically in front of Nat, who caught my infectious laugh, and I followed the path to the detective’s stomping grounds.

 

 

* * *

 

How did I end up here?

 I had essentially ended up back where I started. Still promoting the paper, Nat was stood shouting her lungs out. She seemed like a good kid. Shaking my head, I glanced at the sign. It just had to be a fucking bar. Sighing, I hoped someone could help me with directions. Entering the bar, a sickening smell made my eyes water. Seemed that the drinks were made on site. Swaying up to the counter, I smiled warmly at the man in front of me, his grin seemingly stretching beyond his face.

“Hello friend!” he shouted, despite the fact he was less than a metre away from me, “can I interest you in drink, I suggest our homemade Bobrov Moonshine!” Did everyone in this stupid city have to have an accent? It was ironic that even after the war, people were still advertising new products, all he had to do two hundred years ago was slap a trademark on his drink and mass produce it, but it seemed the citizens of Diamond City, mainly the ones in the bar, enjoyed the Moonshine. I waved my hand nervously, my skin growing paler.

 “I'm more of a Nuka Cola guy, the sugar rush is better than getting drunk.” I smirked, hoping to skip the conversation to the part where he showed me how to get to the detective agency. The accented man cheerfully reached behind the counter before I could stop him, and placed a bottle of the sugary soda on the table top.

“I don't have an-” I began, but I was stopped by him putting his hand up in the air.

“Is on the house, call it down payment. I was hoping you could help me. Outsiders do better job than freeloaders in the city!” he guffawed, enthralled by his own explanation. Still, the concept of being given a job meant that I could get paid, eradicating the need of getting lost trying to find an obscure building in a city I had no knowledge of. Running a hand through my short ebony hair, I nodded.

 "I'm listening.” I grunted.

“Good good!” he cried, “come with me!” I didn't think he could say anything unenthusiastically, and I found myself enjoying the inexhaustible energy the man exerted. As I went to follow him, the bartender barked an order in a language I wasn't familiar with. Definitely wasn't something the tribals in Zion used, or the language the folks up in Anchorage spoke- French or something like that- so this fascinated me extremely. Moments after he yelled in the foreign dialect, a taller and thinner version of the bartender came into view. Brothers, I guessed. They spoke excitedly in gibberish, which left me completely confused. Oddly enough, the customers seemed used to it and paid no attention to the pair.

 Next thing I knew, I was whisked away into another room full of old machinery. The stocky bartender was stood next to a gaunt young woman, who clutched a broom unsteadily.

 “So outsider, I have proposition.” the bartender began, his smile fading, “you help me with problem, and I pay you, deal?” I took off my sunglasses, ignoring their faces off horror. If we were going to do business, I had to put the facade away.

“How much?” I asked, crossing my arms, my face steady and eyes unblinking.

“Five hundred caps.” he stammered.

“Six hundred, and throw in a pair of jeans.” I countered, my gaze obviously making the two uncomfortable.

“Fine, fine! Just help find Earl!” the ratty woman squeaked, close to tears.

“Earl?”

“Earl Sterling.” the bartender explained, glaring at the woman, “he was bartender and good friend, but he went missing. Many people go missing in the city, but this time is different. I can feel it!”  A disappearance? I was liking this. Well, not really, because someone was missing, but I found the thought of being like one of those Old World detectives “going around and saving dames” as one book eloquently put it. Sure it was childish, but who was going to judge me?

 “I'll do it. But I need two things first.” I told them, once again wearing my sunglasses.

“Anything!” the woman begged, making it quite obvious that she and Earl were an item.

“I need a way into his house. His key will do. I don't particularly want to waste bobby pins.”

The woman tilted her head.

“And the second thing?”

 I grinned.

* * *

Whistling, I left the bar, twirling a set of keys in my hand, my new comfortable jeans afforded me some level of dignity. It was getting late. The ominous moon hung low in the sky, banishing any form of light from the Commonwealth. Faint green clouds drifted lazily across the city, unconvincingly threatening to rain. I'd never seen a Commonwealth sunrise. How long had I spent in the city?

 Tired, I spied the impish Nat packing away her standing box, chatting away to a tall woman in a red coat. The kid noticed me and waved me over excitedly, a gesture that everybody seemed to do. Honestly, I was tempted to just ignore her, but that was just my inner grouch talking. Returning to my cheery self, I found myself standing near Nat, who was tugging at the taller ladies arm.

“See Piper! This is the guy who gave me the Grognak toy!” she exclaimed, hopping up and down with excitement.

“I can see that kiddo, now why don't ya go inside? I gotta thank your new friend here for his generosity.” she winked at Nat, herding her inside.

 Once the kid was out of sight, Piper turned to me, her expression unreadable.

“So you bought a newspaper with comic books?” she chuckled, hands on her hips.

“Yeah, I didn't have any caps on me so I thought I'd just trade for it.” I responded, red faced. It was common knowledge that people bartered for goods, but usually not with printed paper. Piper’s chuckling increased as she shook her head in amusement.

“Well congratulations mister, you just got conned by an eleven year old!”

I was pretty confused to say the least.

“What?”

“You weren't even supposed to pay for the newspaper, the first one is free!” she giggled, punching my shoulder playfully.

 “Well I'm glad I gave my comics to someone as crafty as that, then.” I groaned, about to turn around.

“Nat mentioned you were trying to find Nick Valentine?” Piper raised her voice with interest, leaning against the door into her house.

“I was looking for a job, but I got one from the bartender, some bartender wanted me to find his friend Earl Sterling. So if you don't mi-”

“Vadim Bobrov. He also filed a missing person's report to the Mayor’s office, and the detective agency. I guess he was getting desperate to find Earl.” Piper interrupted, clearly curious. “Why don't you come inside, we've got a lot to discuss.” I thought about it for a moment, worst case scenario was that I'd get a shotgun up my ass, and best case was that Piper could help. Since I couldn't think clearly, I went with the latter, and nodded. I could already feel the shotgun.

 “At least wait until the second date.”  I teased as she held the door open for me.

“I also leave the leather for the third date, but I'll make an exception for you.” she retorted, causing me to chortle uncontrollably. I could tell that Piper was going to be interesting. Banter aside, I had a case to crack. And drink some nuka cola. _And_ maybe comics to steal from Nat, depending on how the next hour was going to go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is my work. I'm meant to say something in the end notes, like this is my first work, or I update weekly, or anything to that extent. Instead, I'm going to say this: never trust a molerat. Also, thanks for reading!


	3. Noir

Closing the door behind me, I looked around Piper's house. Nothing too fancy, but it seemed comfortable. Old, worn furniture was scattered around, and a scruffy sofa sat contently in the centre of the interior. The only real difference was that part of the room was sectioned off by a few cinder blocks, which I assumed functioned as Nat’s bedroom given the colourful drawings spilling out of the area. A ladder led up to another floor, presumably Piper's room and office. The place was a stereotypical wasteland hovel, but it was still better than anything I ever had.

“So down to business.” Piper sat down on the sofa while I stood at the entrance awkwardly, carefully scanning me. She held her intense gaze before I coughed uncomfortably, unsure of whether to answer. The words eventually came to me.  
“Well I have no idea why I'm here or why you're staring at me like that.” Piper snapped herself out of her thoughts, excitedly waving her hands around as she spoke.  
“Sorry, I was just thinking. Anyway, you said that you were looking for Earl Sterling?” she spoke as if I hadn't confirmed it.  
“Uh, yeah, I was just on my way to his house.” I replied.  
“I know you're new to the city, so I gotta tell you that this isn't the first disappearance around here.” Piper leaned in closely her hands flowing freely, as if she was telling me a secret.

“Yeah, the bartender, Vadim you said he was called, mentioned it. Is it anything related with the Institute?” I asked, gauging Piper's reaction. At the mention of the secretive organisation's name, her eyes lit up with a defiant fire.  
“Wrong.” she chuckled, clearly impressed, “But you know a lot for an outsider.” Shaking my head, I shrugged.  
“Not really, just an educated guess.” I murmured, tilting my head slightly.  
“Anyway, the Institute usually replaces people, usually people with relatives or an important role in the city, such as our brilliant mayor.”

Piper pointed at a wall filled with various notes, names and general scribbles. It really was like a detective novel, I thought, as the intrepid reporter ran me through her thoughts.  
“Charlie Fallon disappeared a few months back. He was related to Becky Fallon, the owner of the clothes store in the market. If the Institute was involved, why kidnap people and not replace them with synths? It doesn't make sense.”

I had read Piper's article about synths when I was lost- an award winning piece really- and the pieces started to fit together.  
“So it was foul play. In your article, you spoke about people being replaced with synths, and not them disappearing. You want to raise awareness of being replaced rather than being kidnapped.” I pieced together, the whole idea sounding convoluted in my head. Conspiracy theories always were crazy, almost as crazy as that Nuka Cola lady in DC, but this was just insanity.  
“Bingo.” Piper winked, getting up from her seat. My head was spinning from the confusion.  
“But that doesn't explain the other disappearances, like Charlie Fallon. Are we looking at a serial killer or just random and coincidental incidents?” I countered. Truthfully, I was interested by the other disappearances. Wasn't my jurisdiction though. Piper reinforced this.  
“Now, gloomy, that's not your job, that'd be Nick's, but since he's preoccupied with a Vaultie, you get to handle this case.”

“So you've basically been telling me things I already know?” I summarised, realising that I hadn't gotten anywhere with Piper.  
“Not exactly. Call this conversation an interview.” Piper grinned mysteriously. Had she set me up?  
“An interview for what?” I asked slowly.  
“I just wanted to see if you'd be a good sidekick.”

_**Sidekick?!** _

* * *

 

“Let's clarify one thing,” I hissed under the cover of darkness, “I'm the Silver Shroud and you're the Mistress of Mystery!” Piper and I were outside of Earl Sterling’s house, continuing our discussion about who the sidekick was. The only reason Piper was with me because I was just that passionate about how wrong she was that I didn't notice that she'd followed me to the house. Not that I didn't mind the company.

“Whatever you say, sidekick!” Piper joked, as we entered the house.  
“I'm not bloody Jangles the Moon Monkey!” I protested pleadingly.  
“I didn't say that. And weren't the Silver Shroud and the Mistress of Mystery together?” I quickly decided to change the subject.

“Look for anything suspicious, blood stains, notes, maybe even a map leading us to Earl.” I stammered, my cheeks reddening. Piper nodded, and started searching Earl's desk for any clues. I did the same, methodically sorting through a pile of crumpled papers. Lots of old receipts, which surprised me as they weren't a common thing in the 23rd century. But interestingly, the receipt was dated in 2287, a few months ago. I read the word “surgery”, and put down the small paper. For another hour or so we searched without a single word spoken before I raised my voice to break the awkward silence.  
“You mentioned a Vaultie?” I asked casually. Wasn't really surprising a Vault Dweller popped up suddenly after tempers reached their peak with the Institute. It was a classic story. A big bad wolf would terrorise the populace, either the Master, or the Enclave or another technologically advanced group. Then a hero, almost always a Vault Dweller or a relative of one, would drive off the bad wolf and save the day! The end!

Except, the stories never told the lives it took along the way to beat the baddies. Not all of the tales of the wasteland were happy ones. Especially not ones involving a Vault Dweller.

“Why'd you ask?” inquired Piper, her voice muffled.  
“Just wondering, haven't seen a Vault Dweller in years.” I replied, inspecting the nearby sofa.  
“Years?” snorted Piper, “you only look about twenty!”  
“Twenty five!” I corrected, “it's rude to talk about age. Anyone who's survived childhood is old in my book.”  
“Either way I'm older than you!” she taunted. She probably heard my eyes roll to the back of my head. At least she wasn't asking personal questions, which was odd for a reporter.  
“So you're accent is strange, where are you from.” There it was.  
“You want to write an article about me?” I asked, hoping that the subtle snarky undertones on my voice would dissuade Piper.  
“No, already done an interview this week, but would it annoy you that I'm curious?” I tutted, closing another wooden drawer.  
“I suppose not, but it's going to take a lot more than knowing you for less than a day and you berating me about how I'm-”

After a minute, Piper noticed my abrupt stop, and if I was paying attention, I might have heard her coat rustle as she waved her arms. When that proved useless, she walked up to me, confusion etched on her face.  
“What ya staring at, gloomy?” she grunted, poorly copying my voice. Absently, I picked up a pristine scrap of paper. I hurriedly tore through the piles of paper I had painstakingly organised.

Piper was less than impressed as I incoherently muttered like a madman, but her bemusement turned into interest as I held multiple more tiny receipts. Earl Sterling had a lot of these receipts, all marked with the same words: “Mega Surgery Centre”.

Realisation dawned on Piper as I explained this, and I handed the cleanest receipt to her.  
“Look at the date,” I urged, “it was last week. When did Earl Sterling go missing?” Piper silently mouthed “last week” in disbelief.  
“So you're saying…”  
“Doctor Sun killed Earl Sterling!” I declared triumphantly. It took almost a minute for Piper to stop laughing.

“Hold on, junior detective!” she gulped between breaths, hands on her knees as she doubled over with laughter. “Doctor Sun doesn't do facial reconstructions, that'd be Doc Crocker, the other doctor.”

I was half right, at least.  
“So this Doc Crocker either killed Earl Sterling, or knows where he went?” I said it like a question, silently seeking the verification from the reporter.  
“Not exactly stellar work,” Piper shrugged, her jazz hands doing their thing, “but it's the only thing we've got at the moment. Come on Jangles, we've got work to do.”

Edging towards the exit, I groaned, and gave Piper the evilest look I could muster.  
“I've known you for a few hours, and all you've done is take the piss.” Her bewilderment was barely concealed, which only amplified my groan.  
“Make fun of! All you've done is make fun of me! Honestly, nobody understands colloquialisms nowadays.”  
“Alright gloomy, whatever, just get your butt and your fancy words out of here, we've got a case to crack!” The energy radiating from Piper showed her dedication towards the job, and I wondered if she was always like that in all the things she did.  
“The name’s Grimm, not Gloomy.” I murmured as I shuffled my butt and my fancy words out of the house.

“So what's the plan?” Piper whispered beside me, trying to appear taller than she actually was. It wasn't anything to do with her reaching my shoulders. That's what she kept on saying during the ten second walk to Crocker’s house. Now that we were there, the conversation was purely business.

“We do the logical thing: we knock on the door.” I replied, pretending not to notice Piper's antics. The small lady did a double take, waving her arms around excitedly.  
“Are you crazy? It's in the middle of the night, you don't just knock on a suspected murderers door!” she squeaked frantically.  
“I'd rather not wait until morning, and besides, on the off chance that the doctor isn't in, we can break in.” my optimism was clearly exasperating my companion.

“Fine.” she threw her arms up in defeat and pouted ever so slightly. Grinning incessantly, I rapped my knuckles loudly on the rusty door. A minute later, I repeated the action, hoping that Crocker was just asleep. This continued for a while, until I grew impatient, and unholstered my revolver.

“Holy- Grimm, what are you doing?!” Piper panicked, her feet dancing on the dirt uncontrollably.  
“I'm going to shoot the door down, what does it look like?” my blank face made the reporter hysterical. She was in a frenzy, pleading with her eyes for me to stop. I ignored her. Cocking the gun, I pressed it against the keyhole. My fingers twitched slightly on the trigger. Piper held her hat in her hands. And…

….  
….  
….

I twirled the revolver in my hand.

Holstering it, I turned to the reporter and smirked wickedly.  
“Got ya.” Promptly, Piper repeatedly hit me with her newsboy cap, swearing profusely.  
“You ass, you scared the crap outta me!” she vented, slapping her hat against my arm.

“Calm down!” I wheezed. She shot me a dirty look, and put her hat on, the inferno within her eyes still raging. “Since Crocker isn't in, we can take a look around.”  
“How are we going to do that then if the door's locked?” Piper put her hands on her hips, her face locked in astonishment.  
“Simple, it's called breaking and entering.” I brandished a bobby pin from my coat and set to work on the lock.

Opening the door would've been a lot easier if I had something to apply pressure on the lock, like a screwdriver. The previous joke of blasting the door open was tempting, but I knew subtlety was paramount. I was lucky that the city guards hadn't stumbled on me. Tumblers clicked in place in silent victory, and the door opened.

Bowing courteously, I motioned towards the door.  
“Madam.” I curtsied politely. Piper's disapproval was overwhelming, but she played along.  
“Why thank you. ” she drawled in her atrocious version of my accent, tipping her hat. Now I really wanted a hat, something western. Straightening my sunglasses, I followed Piper into the wolf's den.  
“This is so wrong.” I heard her say.  
“Like you've never broken into someone's house before.” I yawned, my posture slackening but my eyes alert.

I repeated the whole “look for clues” routine, and snuck up to the glowing terminal on the other side of the room. Scrolling through the entries, I noticed nothing odd, other than the doctor taking a liking to an “Ellie Perkins”. Whoever that was.

“Well unless you count Crocker hitting on his clients, I don't see anything suspicious.” I called out to the darkness. “I really need a pip-boy.” I said to myself. The lack of light only intensified my uneasiness. In the inky blackness, I caught Piper calling me. Well, whispering “Gloom” wasn't exactly calling me, but I got the point. Sneaking over to her, my eyes adjusted to a semi-lit section of the room, housing a freezer. Unlike most freezers, this one had blood smeared all over it. I just hoped it was brahmin.

“What are we betting that it's nothing suspicious?” I asked, dabbing my fingers in the blood. Inspecting the sticky liquid, I lapped up the blood and swirled it around in my mouth. With Piper watching in horror, I spat it out and wiped my mouth in disgust.  
“It's human.” I concluded. Every animal’s blood had a different subtle taste, brahmin was sweeter and thinner, akin to a radiation riddled nuka cola, whereas radroach was a thick gloopy substance. I'd never tasted human blood, but I had heard that it was slightly bitter and metallic. Now I knew what that meant.

“Jesus, Grimm, gross.” Piper blanched. She didn't know how I felt. Bile was bubbling up in my stomach, and it threatened to rise as I ingested the vile substance.

“Please don't tell me that Crocker is a cannibal.” I murmured weakly. It wasn't an uncommon practice, but still a taboo one, even after the fall of civilisation.  
“He's strange, but I don't think he'd eat people.” the reporter responded, unconvinced with her own words.  
“But you didn't think he'd kill people, even if we don't know for sure that he did.” I studied the blood on the freezer. It could have been his, or spilt blood bags from the surgery. I suspected Piper knew this.

“The doctors use blood bags all the time,” she looked at me, then the freezer, “and we have no motive or evidence, besides the blood that may or not be Earl Sterling’s.” she rubbed her eyebrows slowly, and I didn't blame her. No evidence and no leads. I thought that it was time for Commonwealth justice.  
“When you say it like that, it almost sounds impossible.” I grinned again, pulling my revolver put and checking the cylinder. “Now, I'm not exactly like Nick Valentine, I don't have enough patience for that. What I do have is a fully loaded gun and a way into the surgery. When I was there, I noticed a cellar leading somewhere, and if Crocker is hiding bodies, then that's where he'd be.”

I sounded insane. The poor girl in front of me had the misfortune of witnessing my blatant insanity, and frankly, I was tired, and I really wanted to shoot someone. My subconscious dissuaded me from any rash decisions at that moment, but only my unpredictable nature could be so…unpredictable.

“You're crazy, you know that?” Piper growled, frustrated.  
“I'm barking mad,” I said calmly, “and I understand that you don't have to come with me, because there's a high chance of me getting shot.” My temporary companion looked grateful, and breathed out slowly.  
“Thanks, I'd stick around, but I don't need to give McDonough another reason to kick me out of the city again.”

Piper approached the door, and had one final look back at me. “If you don't get locked up or murdered brutally, you know where to find me. It was fun, Gloomy.” a genuine smile appeared on her face, but she shuffled out of the house before I could mention it. I half expected her to wink. Count on my ego to think that.

Habitually spinning my revolver around, I exhaled and stood under the bleak light, mulling the situation in my psychotic mind. The blood could have merely been spilt, but it was unprofessional, even by wasteland standards. Wasting precious supplies was not a frequent occurrence, so it was definitely suspicious. Maybe Crocker hid the body in the freezer and moved it recently to somewhere secure. The cellar I had seen during my brief stay at the surgery centre was the best- not to mention only-bet.

I was going there anyway, purely because I had told Piper and it would just be awkward if I'd gone somewhere else. Mentally running around in circles was exhausting.  
“After this, I'm getting a nuka cola.” I grumbled, dreaming of the delicious soft drink. Holstering my gun, I practically kicked the door open and stomped outside. If Crocker didn't kill Earl Sterling, I was going to be pissed.

* * *

 

I wasn't pissed.

Although I was pretty pleased with myself when I tackled the disgraced Doctor Crocker to the ground.

I hadn't expected much when I tiredly waddled up to the clinic, save the fact that it was a fairly pretentious establishment. The “Mega surgery centre” sounded ridiculous, but I was sure that Crocker thought of the name. From reading his terminal entries, it was apparent that he was very full of himself.

However, my fears were manifesting as I noticed the blood streak shimmering in the moonlight. The blood led to the cellar door, which was locked by a padlock. Inspecting the lock I realised that it was unlocked, but when I tried to open the door leading into the cellar, it groaned in protest. Locked from the inside. The bobby pins I used earlier easily snapped when I forced the lock, in the hopes that it would open.

I had no way to open the door, so I did something completely stupid.

I shot it.

I emptied all six shots into the door, and thankfully the rusty hinges flew off, the door falling into darkness. Reckoning I had about twenty seconds until the guards came, I hopped down into the abyss along with the door. If I had known about the ladder, I would have gladly used it, but I fell flat on my ass for a second time in the last twenty four hours. Wincing as I got up, I was met by a rather surprised Doc Crocker, who gripped a ripper tightly.

“Another problem,” he muttered cheerfully, “but that's alright! I can fix this. I can fix anything!” He was even more unhinged than I was- well, not really.  
“What did you do to Earl Sterling?” I asked calmly, noticing the dismembered body next to him. Even if it wasn’t Earl, he was still guilty of murdering someone.  
“What did I do?” Crocker smiled his thousand mile smile, “I didn’t do anything. It was Earl who didn’t want to be happy.” I didn’t like where this was going, so I drew my revolver, and levelled it with the deranged doctor’s face. He regarded me with another smile, and carried on rambling.  
“Good patients get a nice new face. Bad patients bleed all over the floor because they want to screw up their surgeon’s life!”  
“Calm down tantrum king” was probably the worst thing I was meant to say, but the egotistical child in front of me really needed to be slapped, verbally or physically. After my somewhat scathing comment, I pointed at Crocker.

“Just because you fuck up, for whatever reason, does not mean you kill a person!” I scolded him without hesitation, my face twisted into an ugly scowl.  
“But it’s his fault.” he whimpered, angrily throwing the ripper to the ground.  
“It’s your duty as a surgeon to do no harm, and guess what Crocker? You’ve killed someone! You’ve failed!” Crocker extended his lower lip, turning his mantis face into that of a pouty baby.  
“If Earl disappeared, people will think the Institute took him, but now there’s another bad patient who wants to screw up my life! But I can fix this. I can fix anything!” Crocker stepped towards me threateningly, but I pulled back the hammer of my revolver and instinctively put up a hand to stop him.

“That’s a bad idea. If you come any closer, it won’t just be Earl’s blood on the floor. You can just come in peacefully and we can tell the nice guards what happened, and it’ll all be fine.” I bobbed my head up and down deliberately and dumbly, trying to convince the doctor.

Right on cue, two odd guards climbed down the ladder, each pointing their gun at me. Their orders were muffled by their stupid helmets, so I just jerked my head in Crocker’s direction.  
“Guys, do you not realise that we’re standing in Crocker’s fucking basement and there’s Crocker with a body, and you are pointing your guns at me?!” I shouted. A stunned silence swept over everyone, and I couldn’t help wonder why everyone was so difficult to talk to. I thought I heard an indistinct “he’s right”, and the guards aimed at Crocker.

“Don’t shoot him.” I urged, stepping towards the doctor. He produced a needle and brought it to his arm, ready to inject. Shit. Rushing towards him, I leapt into the air, despite my leg searing with agony from the fall, and collided with Crocker.  
“Stay down.” I whispered into his ear as I held him in place. His intense shrieking only tempted me further to slap him, or punch him. Definitely the latter.  
“I can fix anything!” he roared, thrashing around hectically. Eventually, the guards hauled me off of Crocker, and heaved him up, dragging him away. I had to admit, watching the guards try to carry a grown man up a ladder was quite amusing. As soon as they were out of sight, Doctor Sun descended from the ladder, glaring at me spitefully.

“What happened? I thought I told you to take it easy!” he spat, looking at my injured leg.  
“Nothing much happened, I found Earl Sterling, not in one piece, mind you, and I found out that Crocker killed him.” I explained simply, rubbing my sore leg.  
“I know that, I just passed Crocker ranting. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew he had gone through with the surgery.” Sun suddenly looked sympathetic, and started tending to my leg, although this time he didn’t tear my jean leg off. Why didn’t he roll up the leg last time?  
“So Earl didn’t just vanish. The procedure went badly, and Doctor Crocker was trying to cover it up.” he spoke in hushed tones as he checked my healing wound.  
“He thought that if Earl vanished, people would think that the Institute took him. Which makes me wonder if-”  
“If he had done this before.” the doctor concluded, standing up again. “You were lucky, but please don’t jump down into cellars again. Take it easy for tonight, maybe tomorrow as well, this is the last time I’ll say this. Now, we need to make a statement with security.” Glad that the excitement was drawing to a close, I made my way up the ladders, and waited for Sun to show me where security was. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long.

I just wanted to sleep. The bags under my eyes were so large that I could have stored my comics in them. Thankfully, my sunglasses concealed the dark rings underneath my eyes. Checking the contents within my backpack were undamaged, along with the pink monstrosity itself, I hummed sleepily, waiting for the night to be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pizza doesn't exist in the wasteland. What a saddening prospect. But molerats exist, so that's good! Grab a little monocle and a molerat, and what do you have? Bite marks up your arm and a new disease! Yay?


	4. Death by Piper

Dawn crept over the green wall that protected Diamond City, the sun’s radiant brilliance filling me with a peaceful warmth. My first Commonwealth sunrise. I’d never seen the sun in the Commonwealth, and, to my disappointment, it wasn’t different to any other sunrise. Yawning drowsily, I got off the peeling green bleachers that looked down on the city, and made my way to the market. I gazed at the house located next to the bleachers, and I saw someone in a vault suit huddled by a door talking to a synth in a detective coat. I really needed sleep if I was hallucinating this badly.

 Relaying the night’s events to Vadim didn’t bring me joy, nor did it make the bartender or, the ratty girl who was sweeping the floor, happy. Still, they handed me a heavy bagful of caps, which was kept safe in my pink bag, and even a free room. My demons enveloped me as soon as I passed out on the worn mattress, but luckily, or unluckily, my nightmares did not wake me up.

 When I emerged from the Dugout Inn, it was already noon. By this time, the market was bursting with life. Déjà vu hit me like a tonne of bricks as Nat screamed at the top of her lungs about the newspaper, most likely about Doc Crocker and his malicious intents. I wondered what the headline was. “Crazy Crocker kills local resident” was a safe choice, though my mirth became sadness, as I remembered what the mad doctor revealed as I gave my statement. Charlie Fallon’s name caught my attention, and Crocker started to reveal how many people he’d killed. Double figures.

 “Hey Nat.” I stood next to the miniature salesperson, and cracked a lopsided smile.

“Heya mister, thanks for the comics!” her excitement spoke volumes. Kids would be kids, but it made my day knowing that she had a bit of joy in her life. “Piper’s inside.” she chirped, giving me a knowing look.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Did I have blood on my face?

“No reason. Anyway, have fun, and don’t forget to read the Publick!” Children were strange sometimes.

 

* * *

 

Being questioned just after waking up was not a great way to start the day. Afternoon. Whatever. As if she materialised out of thin air, Piper was inches from me, with notebook in hand, and she started shooting questions at me faster than a minigun shot bullets.

“Hold on for one moment.” I sat down on the reporter’s couch and got myself comfortable. Satisfied, I repeated the same sob story I told Vadim, minus the parts that Piper already knew.

“So Crocker killed all those people then?” Piper finally whispered after a long period of not talking.

“Twelve people, in total, I think. At least we know what happened to the missing people.” It was a small comfort, but I’d rather people die at the hands of a deranged egotist than a shadowy organisation that performed experiments on unwitting and unwilling test subjects.

 “So what did you tell security?” Piper’s eyes bore into my soul with her usual intensity, and I scratched my head nervously.

“The truth, although I didn’t mention you. It’s not like- what was it you said- ‘you didn’t need to give McDonough another reason to kick you out of the city again’. I figured it’d be better for some outsider to cause all the trouble, and not an upstanding citizen.” I said the last two words sarcastically, and I was attacked by Piper’s trademark hat whip.

“So how come you’re not in the cells with Crocker?” she asked once she stopped her assault.

“Well Doctor Sun didn’t press charges, and the guards couldn’t be bothered to fill out the paperwork, so they just let me go. They caught the murderer, I don’t think they really cared about someone who was breaking and entering.” I explained.

 With disbelief, Piper looked at me and started scribbling down notes. Unnerved, I shuffled around on the worn couch slightly, taking off my pink bag and putting it on the floor.

“Are you going to add that to your article?” I asked. I wasn't sticking around in the Commonwealth much longer, but I somehow found being in a story very violating. For all intents and purposes, I didn't exist. Nobody knew, or cared about me. It was a lie that I told myself every day, and it still wasn't convincing. I still had people. Minus the still.

 “If you want, I can not add your name. Or I can just call you Gloomy in the article?” she suggested, knocking me out of my dark reverie.

“It hasn't stopped you calling me Gloomy throughout the brief time we've known each other.” I retorted, raising eyebrows that were hidden behind my glasses.

 “It was either that or ‘Shades’, and you just seem so grumpy. Have you ever smiled?” I scowled and threw my hands up in defeat, mimicking Piper's habit of energetically waving her arms around.

“I smiled at your sister! I have smiled a few times I'll have you know!”

“Keep your shirt on!” Piper repositioned her goofy hat as she laughed.

 “Fine! Do whatever you want! Add me in your newspaper and call me something ridiculous like ‘King Dave’. I don't care because I'm not sticking around for much longer.” I tried to say it nicely but I just came across as harsh. Go me!

 “It was just a joke.” Piper said in a small voice. Her enthusiasm fizzled out before growing into an angry frown. I angered people all the time, raiders, jackasses, and general idiots. But Piper didn't deserve my random and sporadic rage.

 “Sorry.” I added quickly, “it's been a long day, and finding out that a man killed a dozen people really gets to me.” Piper calmed down, and a strange look fell upon her face.

“But people die every day, what makes this so special?”

“Because this is different. This is meant to be a safe city, and it could have been anyone. Imagine if Crocker targeted anybody, like people who wouldn't go to the surgery centre. What if he targeted kids?”

 I really hated it when children died. It was inevitable in some cases, but it just made their deaths worse.

“I worry about that everyday Grimm, I receive _plenty_ of threats and I'm worried Nat’ll be dragged into it, and that would be my fault.” Piper sympathised.

“Threats are one thing, but I doubt anybody will hurt Nat, her voice is like a deathclaw’s. People would hear her if she was in danger.”

“I suppose, but what if-”

“There's no point worrying on improbable things. As long as you are a good sister, then Nat will be fine.” My words seemed to have an effect on Piper. Which was odd because I was some random walk-the-wasteland fuck. Maybe city people were more trusting. Then again, a city that exiled an entire group of people weren't that trusting.

 “What counts as a good sister then?” she beamed, scribbling down notes like I was some sort of wise sage.

“Listen, I'm just a stranger. I'm not sticking around because I came here for comics, which I found. You should not follow the advice, or, trust someone you don't know. You're the reporter! You should be cynical and wary of a strange sounding bloke who always wears shades and wears an NCR ranger's coat! Even more so if he gives your little sister an issue of Grognak!” I said, exasperated at this difficult woman. _I_ would have been very concerned about anyone like that, so why wasn't Piper?

 “Would a man who was for trouble really help random people? Or give a kid free stuff?” Wasn't exactly free, but oh well. “Besides, I'm not a half bad judge of character.”

“That's just great. Do you talk to every stranger that stumbles into the city?” Why was I such a prick? _That_ was the question I asked myself.

“How do you think the Vaultie got into the city?”

“Fucking fantastic. I have nowhere to be, and I have to get there promptly, so if you don't mind…” I made a futile effort to leave Piper's hovel, but I, as predicted, was stopped by her.

 “Wait! Are you really just going to leave the city?”

“Yes.”

“With an injured leg?”

“Yes.”

“Without buying any supplies first?”

“I didn't think about that.” I admitted.

“How have you survived this long?” Piper winced.

“I haven't survived. That's the trick.”

 

Did Piper stop leave me alone? Are ferals friendly?

 

No.

 

She frantically paced after me as I made my way to the market and bartered with a crazy lady.

“You. I don't know you.” she muttered as she read a copy of Piper's latest article. “Keep your distance.”

“Why? You're a trader. You trade things for caps. I have caps.”

“Because I don't know you, and I will not serve a synth pretending to be human!” She was definitely passionate, I had to give her that. “So are you? Human?”

 Well synths weren't pretending to be human. They were human by basic principles. They believed they were human, therefore they were. So having a woman tell me that I could have been a puppet pretending to be real really annoyed me.

 I recalled the conversation Piper and I had, when we were arguing about who the sidekick was. What I was about to say was going to frustrate, or anger, the paranoid trader, but it was worth the laughter I'd have when I looked back on this event.

“I'm Jangles the Moon Monkey!” I proclaimed, arms outstretched. My chances of death by Piper were immediately doubled.

 “That's exactly what a synth would do! Ducking the question! We don't serve your kind here!” Piper stepped in quickly, and shot me an evil glance.

“Just serve him Myrna, before I remember about your ‘special’ relationship with your Mister Handy.” it was more than I wanted to hear, but it worked. Successfully, I traded off the damned whiskey I had been carrying around for months, and a few of my caps for canned food, water, some needed stimpacks, along with various needles containing med-x, and bullets.

 “You are still in no condition to just march across the Commonwealth!” Piper argued as I packed the supplies away.

“I've had worse injuries. I'm sure I'll survive. Why do you care anyway?”

“It's called being nice. And I am not going to see another idiot throw away his life because he thinks he can handle the wasteland!” she made a frustrated noise, similar to a rabid yao guai. So Nat got her voice from Piper.

 Naturally, I simply zipped up my bag and when I started to swing it onto my shoulder, Piper snatched it from my hands.

“If you don't stay until your leg is healed, I'll-” she ransacked my bag, only to reveal a mint condition Silver Shroud comic in it's plastic sleeve, “I'll burn your stupid stuff!” She was playing a dangerous game.

 “That's not fair!” I vainly swiped at my bag, but Piper dodged my arm.

“Life isn't fair. If you stay in the city for a day, you can have your silly bag back.”

“You're very confrontational.” I complained as I limped back towards Piper's trailer.

“That's why I'm a good reporter.”

 “Could’a fooled me.”

 

* * *

 

“So while I'm being held hostage here, is there anything you want to know? My entire dark and tragic backstory that spans two hundred years and involves a tap dancing molerat? Maybe me talking about the sovereign state where I came from and how my alien overlords sent me to America to infiltrate the human population?”

 “Are you high?” I could tell Piper was already thinking of murdering me. I was enjoying creeping her out regardless.

“I saw a synth in a detective coat and a vaultie trying to break into a house, so I might be slightly totally mad.” I reasoned, unsure of what I was meant to be doing.

 We were sat, as usual, in Piper's home, which was really looking boring after the third consecutive visit in the two days I'd been in Diamond City. My supposed ‘kidnapper’ held to bottles of alcohol.

“No that was Nick, the detective. As for the vaultie, that would be his new client. Choose your poison.” her thick Boston accent was becoming more familiar and didn't sound as weird as it did when I first entered the Commonwealth.

 “I don't drink.” I waved away the booze, feeling sick at the sight of it, and returned to the Vault Dweller.

“So what's the story with the kid in the vault suit then? They escape some twisted experiment or did they come from a normal Vault?”

“You act like I know everything about the Vault Dweller.” Piper snorted, clearly insulted that I would accuse her of such a slanderous accusation.

 “You got them into the city. I bet you dragged them straight into your home and interviewed them.”

“That didn't happen!”

So it did happen.

 Immediately after hearing that, I got out of my chair and stormed my way out of the trailer. I politely tapped Nat on the shoulder, and interrupted her tirade about the paper.

“Piper wanted me to collect the newspaper about the Vault Dweller.” I lied.

“Again? She's lucky we've got some left.” the mini-Piper grumbled as she hopped off her box and searched for the paper amongst a pile of junk.

 I returned triumphantly into the trailer, and smugly Sat down on the sofa before reading out the headline.

“View from the Vault!” I exclaimed theatrically, suddenly American.

“That's freaky. How can you read with those glasses?” I ignored Piper and started to read the article.

 

“ _Whenever I take a walk through Diamond City, there are so many things people tell me to be grateful for. Purified water, working lights, electricity, security. True, what we have would have been unthinkable even a few decades ago. But it's easy to forget that, even after all the progress we have made, we are still living in the shadow of the world that was. A world before the threat of radiation. Before the Super Mutant and the Feral Ghoul and the synth_ etic. Good intro for an interview that never happened.”

 The rest of the day was spent me reading and talking about the article in my perfect American tone, perks of living in the wasteland where the proud nation once stood. Upon reading the vaultie’s name, I scoffed. Must have been an alias. I'd heard some bad names, however that alias? That was shit. Grimm was way more mysterious. I was biased, still it was better than the vault dweller’s silly name.

 At one point Nat entered the room and caught me reading and Piper periodically hiding her face with embarrassment.

“You guys are weird.” she made her way to her room and I swear I could hear pages being flipped.

 Clearly tired, Piper waved her hands around sleepily.

“Night Gloomy.” she yawned, forgetting the fact that I had no bed or caps to rent one. They were all still in my bag.

“I don't have anywhere to go.” I said dumbly, still holding the newspaper.

“Just sleep here.” Lack of energy was messing with her head. I made no indication that I would, although Piper assumed that I was going to sleep at hers. She was a mystery that one.

 When I was certain that Piper was asleep, I quietly grabbed my bag from the table, and left without another word. That was meant to be the end. My stay in the Commonwealth was at a close.

 

Until I was approached by a man wearing military fatigues.

“I've got a job for you.” he whispered. What was it with Diamond City and diversity? Chinese, some random Eastern accent, and now Mexican? Either they were all made up personalities or they made a _very_ long journey to Boston.

 Common sense told me to run. I had enough caps to maybe make it to Virginia, where I'd have to do some more odd jobs to scrape the caps together that were needed to reach California. However, the man looked desperate, so I caved.

 “Sure, what is it and how much are you paying me?” I was handed a small pouch of caps and a letter.

“Two hundred and fifty now, and another three hundred when you get back. I need you to deliver this letter to Daisy in Goodneighbor, and I need you to bring her response back. Do not open the letter, under any circumstances.”

 “Why are you offering me this job?” I questioned, taking the caps sluggishly.

“I heard that you found out what happened to the missing people, so you seem like someone who gets things done. Also, the other new guy declined my offer.”

“World travels fast?” His face lit up and he nodded.

 “Word travels fast." He repeated like a script, "What can I say?”

“You don't have to say anything other than tell me where Goodneighbor is.” I responded, and so began a terrible choice that was going to fuck me over in the long run.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four of an insane story! These end notes serve no purpose, other than me imparting wise and important information upon the internet. It's remarkable to think that we can do anything on the internet! You can write fanfiction, communicate with people globally, and of course hire hitmen to assassinate your annoying neighbours! And then you realise how vast the internet is and it's just an infinite void of darkness, where the chance of people reading this is about as equal to people using Bing as a search engine! *Insert inspirational quote here*


	5. I keep running

“Just around the corner.” he said. Just around the corner. He neglected to mention that the corner was on the other side of the city, filled to the brim with mutated creatures. I had expected a few dogs, maybe a few ferals at most. I'd even felt bad when a gumless dog gnawed pitifully on my leg.

“This is going to be easy.” I told it, before patting it's head and delving deeper into the city ruins. **_It was not easy_ **.

I had trouble finding Valentine’s little office, and I still didn't know where it was. So finding a city within a city? I was going to need to be high to find it. Too bad I had no jet.

Still, I was determined. I didn't swear when I backtracked to the same _fucking pond_ and I didn't get angry when I spent hours gathering my bearings. It was all **_fine_ ** . **_Just peachy_ **.

 

The problem began when I heard beeping.

 

I spun around to see raiders running for dear life away from a pack of super mutants. Which was odd, because the humans outnumbered the mutants two to one. Until I saw one of the green giants wave a mini nuke wildly in the air. Stunned, I watched the odd spectacle occur, not thinking that they were headed my way.

Thing was, they _were_ headed my way. Ever so slightly annoyed, I unholstered my revolver and started to aim at the mini nuke wielding brute. I managed to miss all of my shots, but I did pick off a few of the raiders and a super mutant. Didn't matter if I was going to die.

Fumbling around, I reloaded my gun, with the gap between me and the group around ten feet. The blast radius of a mini nuke was twelve. And it was too late to run.

Manically, I shot at the mini nuke, and I expected to die. Instead, I was thrown back inches from the scummy pond. Everyone else was dead, nothing more than piles of mushy organs and bones.

Brushing myself off and getting up, I noticed that my hair was wet. I didn't need to touch it to know it was blood, as my head stung. It wasn't painful, just an inconvenience- I didn't want to spend more caps on having a doctor tell me what to do.

Stepping carefully over the gore, I noticed a raider inspecting the corpses. He saw me too, and immediately pulled out a rusty pistol. Well, I traded one shitty death for another. A more badass death involved a molerat with grenades on it's back, fire breathing geckos and a giant hand. The last item was probably the most important.

Which was why I was surprised when a green hand the size of a tank picked up the raider and hurled him across crumbling buildings. The behemoth stared at me with swollen eyes, and raised it's thick arm.

Narrowly, I dodged the monstrous mutant’s fist. Something told me that I wasn't going to kill it with a revolver. Being the brave person I was, I did not retreat like a cowardly, I only advanced in the opposite direction to where the behemoth was.

I dodged the creature's boulders, and swerved between buildings. Soon, the noise of the behemoth faded into the distance. I doubted it would be able to fit in narrow streets. I was proven wrong when it burst through the crumbling structures and roared ferociously.

I had enough time to see a red line of paint snake off into the distance. Wherever it led to was better than where I was, so I dashed off towards the crimson streak. I had no hopes of outrunning the behemoth, but it was better than resigning myself to a wonderfully painful death.

Unmistakably, I heard more telltale signs of mini nuke crazy super mutants chasing after me, screaming their usual threats of using my entrails as a skipping rope. That was madness. They had to catch me first. From the way things were looking, the behemoth was going to get to me first.

Add insult to injury, the red line went through more super mutant territory- a strange thought especially because the FEV virus shouldn't have spread this far east- and I was quite certain that I was being led to my death, like a brahmin to slaughter.

Damn, I was being dark. If only I had some catchy one liners to balance the scales. Maybe “hey ugly, you make cazadors look good”? Nope, it was too obscure, and I wasn't sure that the behemoth would understand the insult.

Contemplating this, the red line seemingly veered off to nowhere, leaving me truly fucked at the hands of a behemoth with poor fashion taste. I had metaphorically and literally come to the end of the road. Death wasn't all bad, and I was quite prepared to be ripped apart. That was, until I saw the neon sign branding the word “Goodneighbor” into my skull. Suddenly, I wasn't ready to die. If there was a God, which I had serious doubts about, then this was what appeared to be a miracle.

Knowing me, I'd dispute this later, but for the moment, I was quite content to selfishly rush towards the sign that shone next to a rusty scrap gate. Did I think about the people living in Goodneighbor? Hell no.

I had risked my life for stupid reasons, so it seemed strange that I wasn't ready to die. But the fact that I had come back from those risky fucked up so-called adventures showed that I was a stubborn person. And this stubborn prick wasn't going to die unless there was at least _two_ nukes strapped to my chest.

 Running towards the entrance, I sorely wished that the behemoth and it's gaggle of mutants would leave me alone, although the distance between us was forever shortening. I had about thirty seconds until the giant descended irradiated fury upon me.

Goodneighbor was unlike any other city. Smokey, anarchistic and grim, were what made up the wasteland. Goodneighbor, on the other hand, was all that, but on jet. Chaos spread out slowly. The townsfolk stopped chain-smoking and injecting needles into their arms to see me dash through the gate, followed by a filthy behemoth.

If I noticed the stoned people, I would have ignored them intentionally. Except I had other things on my mind- like imminent annihilation- so I did not notice them anyway. The only thing I did notice was an assaultron polishing a deadly fat man.

 Without thinking, I yanked the nuke hurling death machine from the laser hurling death machine, and spun around in time to see the behemoth looming over the town gates. Climatically, it roared, just in time to eat a mini nuke.

Like a demon vanquished by a great hero, the gigantic mutant sunk to the floor as it's face exploded, which caused a series of explosions from the other mutants that carried mini nukes. Shit, this was where I was meant to say something cool.

 

Goliath, meet David.

 

Gingerly, I handed the fat man back to the assaultron, along with a handful of caps, the latter being insurance for keeping my limbs. Meanwhile, the residents of Goodneighbor whispered amongst themselves.

 “Did he kill Swan?”

“Was that real?”

“What just happened?”

 I was feeling pretty dumb, because I broke my rule of maintaining a low profile. That went out the window the moment I nuked a super mutant army. Hell, it barrelled out the door when I helped in Diamond City.

I'd been in the Commonwealth less than two weeks and I had already screwed up my routine. Sure I had my comics, yet I just simply drifted from state to state, well most of the states, trying to survive. It had worked for fifteen years, so what was the deal with the Commonwealth?

Exhaustion was my guess. I had never stayed in a single location for more than a month. Romping around without stopping was getting to me, and it was plain to see that I needed to take it easy. Idiotically, I was too clear headed to follow that solid advice.

 Well, not entirely, as stood before me was a ghoul dressed as a corsair. On the floor there were various empty inhalers, presumably from this ghoul, and his vacant black eyes stared at me.

“Did I really see that or do I need more jet?” he rasped, his nonexistent lips stretching into a horrifying smile.

“No that happened, sorry about that.” I apologised gruffly. The ghoul laughed roughly, his voice scraping on my ears like a knife to metal.

“You kidding me?! That was fun to watch! You just ran straight in here and blew up Swan! Man, you even did that without jet!” I was very confused. Why was he still standing in front of me?

“Who are you?” the chatter died down and everybody returned to whatever they were doing as if a behemoth wasn't outside of the town. I wondered if people were surprised anymore. Maybe if they saw an alien. Hell, I was surprised by that!

 “I'm Mayor Hancock, I look after the people in Goodneighbor and they look after me. It's of the people, for the people, ya feel me?” So he was a politician. The guy seemed mellow enough, I suspected that was because he was high, and I sincerely wished that he wouldn't stab me. I had just taken someone else's property after all. I did give it back, but people weren't exactly forgiving nowadays.

 “Of the people, for the people? Catchy. I can see why you are a politician with slogans like that.” I was definitely going to be stabbed. Hancock took a hit of jet from an inhaler, and continued grinning.

“I can tell I'm going to like you. Just know who's in charge, and try not to steal anything, otherwise I will personally shove a whole pack of cigarettes up your ass and let you get shot.” he warned warmly. I wasn't too sure if I had made a friend or an enemy.

 “At least use quality cigarettes,” I commented dryly, “and I did pay the assualtron back, I do have manners Hancock.”

“You know how to get a ghoul to laugh. And since you compensated Kleo, I figured you need a job.” What was it with people and jobs? I was expendable, yes. An unknown variable that usually demonstrated their skills.

 With Piper, it was speaking to Nat. With the man who just gave me a courier job, it was solving the disappearance of various people. And with Hancock, it was killing a behemoth. Like I said, expendable, and skillful. Two things employers looked for. I didn't need money, I was hoping to leave as soon as possible, I had no reason to stay. I had no reason to leave either.

Fuck, this was annoying. Was I going leave the Commonwealth and wonder around again? I could easily walk back to California and live my life in relative peace. I would never find closure for whatever the hell I needed closure for. Or was I going to mill around Boston for a little while longer?

 Why not? I needed a break from mindlessly wandering.

“I don't need a job, but I'll be happy to help you, as long as I don't get lobotomised by ‘Kleo’.” Hancock seemed pleased with my answer, and relaxed.

“I'll still pay you, we'll discuss details inside. Do you like jet?” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and guided me towards a large building, somewhat threateningly.

 Ignoring the mayor’s passive aggressive behaviour, I breathed in slowly and smiled.

"Jet? The further out east you go, the worse it is. I used to huff the heavy stuff in California as a dare, so your Commonwealth jet isn't going to do much.” Hancock feigned offence, and took his arm off me.

 “It's better than your California shit,” he took a moment to laugh at his joke- it was no secret jet was brahmin shit fumes- and stopped ea walking. “Is that why you're wearing ranger gear, you a deserter?”

“I'm surprised you can tell what a ranger looks like, but no. Long story really, and I'm not one of those people who likes to reveal everything about themselves straight away.”

 “So you've got a tragic backstory and a crippling addiction?”

“That literally sums everyone up. Yours probably involves a self destructive descent into chaos.” The inhalers by Hancock’s feet exhibited arrogance and carelessness towards himself. He shrugged and brought another hit of jet to his nonexistent lips.

 “I'm just a ghoul looking for a good time. I'm all about the chaos, sheriff.” Oh for fuck sake, I had another name. I just hoped that it didn't stick like Piper's name for me. Guilt stabbed at me when I remembered the reporter. Leaving the city was a dick move, but the girl was off putting. Overly fiery, easy to trust and just eager, and not in the good way.

 Even still, I felt bad for taking advantage of her hospitality. She hadn't helped me at all, but she was concerned about my health and wellbeing. Nobody was actually like that, which was ironically why I didn't trust Piper.

 

I didn't trust the the ghoul either.

In fact I didn't really trust anybody.

 

“I'm no sheriff, and you're dressed like someone from the Grognak comics. Now are we going to talk about your job or not?”

“So formal. You need to remove that stick up your ass.” Hancock opened up the door to the large building and looked at me with a glint in his eye. A break from nothing wouldn't hurt, would it?

 

* * *

 

I stared at the ceiling, eyes blurry. There it was. The hazy bliss that robbed me of all feeling, physically and emotionally. It wasn't the same as the amber demon that used to consume me, but it was enough.

Truthfully, I had missed the numbness that seeped into my soul, and maybe if I wasn't high, I would have felt guilty. I laughed bitterly at the thought.

Reality turning to normal, I shook my head sleepily, and turned to Hancock. We were both propped against a sofa, and were supposed to be discussing whatever Hancock needed done. Supposed to.

 After his little errand, I'd probably finally read my comics. I hadn't really stopped rushing around since I entered the damn city, but I had time to kill. There wasn't a lot to do in the wasteland except rush around doing fool's errands. Unless you were some chosen one, off on a grand quest to save humanity.

 

Struggling with my existence was exhausting.

 

“So please tell me this job involves something simple. I already need to deliver a note to Daisy, whoever that is, and stop off at Diamond City.” Hancock tilted his head slightly.

“You don't fuck around, I'll give you that. It just so happens that I need you to go North and return with a package. Guess you'll be doing courier work for a little while longer.”

 Respectfully, I nodded, my mouth twitching amusingly.

“Good thing I'm not a courier. I knew one out west, he got shot in the head in the head and lost his mind.” That was a fun story, one I could have talked about for hours. If the restlessness within me went away, as well as my winning personality, maybe I'd get a chance to finally tell my tales.

 “I can't promise you won't get shot in the head, but I can promise you that you'll earn my respect, and a few caps too.”

“Fair trade. So where do I need to go?” I knew the rundown.

 “Nowhere fancy, just a settlement way up North, just go past Diamond city, and follow the road. The place’s called Sanctuary, and there's not much there. Speak to whoever is willing to look at you, then grab the package and come back to me. Simple job.”

“I'm not allowed to know what the package is am I?”

“A wise man keeps his nose outta other people's business, unless he wants it cut off.” In other words, don't.

 “Got it. Don't expect me to be back by tomorrow, a week is more likely.”

“I understand, and give Daisy my love will ya? She's a better looking ghoul than I am, so she's not hard to spot. Look out for the pretty lady with a full set of hair.” Hancock helpfully added. Daisy was almost certainly the ghoul I spotted after blowing the behemoth into the atmosphere.

 Standing up to make my leave, Hancock sized me up, like a predator assessing it's prey.

“Running around won't fill that hole.” he said as I turned away towards the door. My silence screamed at him to not say anymore, but it went unheeded. “Everyone has a way of coping with life, but you seem like the kind who faces your problems, not run from them. Someday you'll be backed up against a corner, gun pointed at your head, unless you face your demons.”

 Breathing out slowly, I smiled and threw a fleeting glance at Hancock.

“What happens if I'm the demon?” My facade fell, and I let the silence consume me as I stepped once more unto the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My formatting for this story is like my life: bad, messy, and unorganised. BUT at least I'm trying to tidy up the later chapters. I have no idea how long this drug trip of a story is going to go on for, I'm just having fun writing it. Who needs fun anyway? Here, if anyone is caught having fun, they're forced to read my writing. That's torture in itself. I know because I read it and lose the will to live! At least I'm having fun writing it. Now I'm going to get back to writing otherwise the people who locked me in this basement won't feed me again. Last week I just ate pages from a book.


	6. When Demons knock on the door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings, I guess. Self harm, and the like. Just a casual reminder that this isn't a happy story, so don't read if these things affect you. On with the show!

 

“Why are you doing this?”

 

“Go away.”

 

“You're no fun. When was the last time we talked?”

 

“Go away.”

 

“Must have been since we came here.”

 

“Since I came here.”

 

“So you can say something other than ‘go away’.”

 

He looked at me, the ugly scar stretching across His left eye not dampening His malicious smile. Of all the times He visited, now was probably the worst. I was camping in the ruins. Camping was an abstract term, I was more sitting on the concrete underneath what was left of an old highway. Prodding a small fire with a stick, I opened my bag and ignored Him.“We've been playing this game for a long time. I remember the first time you spoke to me. I can still see their faces. Their expressions were priceless!”Calmly, I brought out a tin of beans and a spoon, not wanting to say anything.

“Of course, we were the same person back then, and you didn't go by that pathetic name you're using now.” He leaned closer, registering the look of hatred shaping my features.

“We were never the same person!” I snarl, my outburst causing the unopened tin to roll away into the darkness. Biting back another response, I hung my head low.

“There's the fire I remember!” He whooped, animatedly rocking backwards and forwards. “What happened to you? You were so amazing, so full of pure rage, and now look at you. Just another husk wandering without a purpose. Your depressing, existentialistic thoughts brought me here!”

“The last thing I need is a visit from the angst goblin thank you very much.” My sarcasm thankfully returned, and I cheerfully retrieved another tin of beans from my bag and waited for a snarky insult.

“You're so ignorant. Surely by now you realise that you can't keep on running?” The age old question. Opening the tin, I look at Him in the eyes, my own lingering on the scar that was the catalyst for another downwards spiral in my life.

 

“What else am I supposed to do?”

 

“You really are a grim child. Never once did you appreciate the early days. Being passed around like a bottle. The first time _we_ had a purpose. It's the same situation, we're passing around jobs, so make the most of your shitty life.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It's a promise. I'll see you around.”

Like a stray gust brushing past me, I shuddered as He left. I stared into the void, and for a fleeting moment, I felt a ghostly warm wrap it's arms around me. A familiar voice beckoned me into a dark sleep, and for once, I accepted the siren’s song and gave into the emptiness.

 

* * *

 

“I got spurs that jingle jangle jingle.” jingle jangle. “As I go riding merrily along.” Continuing to hum to myself, I walked through the irradiated plains. Inexplicably, that damn song wedged itself firmly in my head, cursing me to repeat the only line I knew. I wished I had spurs on my boots, then I'd look like pretty intimidating.

As intimidating as a tall British guy wearing a pair of aviator shades and a discoloured pair of jeans could be. The day before, I had made a swift trip - swift because I didn't want to be lynched by Piper- to Diamond city, to deliver the letter Daisy gave to me to Arturo, which was a unique name. No matter how unique his name was, I didn't want to play courier for the modern day Romeo and Juliet. Anyone who read the script would have known how it ended. Needless to say that it wasn't good.After the night's harrowing events, I was glad to shed my sombre mood, and I met the day with a spring in my step. Also, I met feral dogs with a bullet in the head. Today was going to be great, which was a piss poor lie. The likeliest chance of things going right for me were slim to fuck all.

His words rung in my head, making me ache for the repetitive tune that plagued my soul. Dramatisations aside, His untimely arrival shook my confidence. All of a sudden, it felt like I was on borrowed time. Most likely, He'd come talk to me again. Our last conversation was a lot more generic, which followed the usual process of Him begging me to go on a killing spree. Always a murmured goading me to kill everyone. Always a desperate hand guiding my revolver to a kid's head.I don't know what disgusted me more: the realisation that I still let Him affect me, or the fact that at some point in life I'd have probably enjoyed pulling the trigger.What struck me as odd was His confidence. The common aura of hatred and loathing that used to secrete from Him was morphed into an assured cockiness, like I would succumb to His insanity.

“And they sing, oh ain't you glad you're single.” Jingle jangle. “And that song ain't so very far from wrong.” Jingle jangle. Peacefully, the song swept me into it's arms, improving my mood. Passing through a cluster of buildings, I heard a series of laser fire, and the telltale snarls of ferals. I sure as hell wasn't getting into that mess again.

Maybe whoever had the laser rifles were equipped, although I doubted even the Brotherhood of Steel would be trained to handle that many ghouls, judging by the cacophony of noise they created. A whole hoard of the buggers sounded like a small explosion. The noise I heard was akin to that of a nuclear detonation in terms of volume.I wondered what the Brotherhood were up to. Didn't matter really.

“Oh Lillie Bell, oh Lillie Bell. Though I may have done some foolin’, this is why I never fell.” Dreading the embarrassing prospect of people hearing me sing in my self proclaimed awful voice, I picked up my pace and hurried down the street.

Boston, for it's rugged exterior, looked rather idyllic. If people living before the war saw the sickly yellow grass, or the faded colours of ruined buildings that mixed with the rubble, they'd have a fit. Unfortunately, this wasn't before the war, and there was no point in having Old World Blues. There was grass, which was more than I could say about most of DC and Vegas. It wasn't a paradise, but it was easier on the eyes than the green and brown skies in the West. The warm blue ocean above was actually quite peaceful. The same couldn't be said for below.As time passed, the nostalgia came to a head. My feet dragged against the dirt and pebbles, creating the satisfying crunch of gravel beneath me. Like an old friend, a cool wind brushed gently against me, and for that moment, I finally felt complete.

 

That was ruined by a Mister Handy floating inches from my face.

 

“Good day to you sir!” it greeted me, ignorantly blissful about the revolver pressed against one of it's eye stalks.

“Fuck sake, you scared me!” I hissed, taking a measured step back. Not wanting to make the gap any larger, the robot hovered closer still.

“My apologies good sir, I was merely trying to be polite!” it beamed, radiating a angering amount of positivity.

“What are you doing out here?” I questioned, puzzled at the lone mister handy wearing a ushanka on it's eye, floating around aimlessly.

“I was collecting dinner for Miss!” It held up a tiny radroach with glee. “I'm glad to see somebody that sounds like me!” it continued. The robot reminded me of the bartender in Diamond City, neither of them could shut up. I felt incredibly awkward, and I holstered my gun silently, studying the sight in front of me.

“Do you have a name?” What a pathetic conversation this was going to be.

“Codsworth! And who might you be?”

“Uh, Grimm. Do you live in Sanctuary?” If the answer was yes, job done. I'd get the crazy bot to bring the package I was meant to retrieve, or follow him to Sanctuary, then lay on a rooftop debating my existence. If not, I'd leave Codsworth alone and stumble around more.

Finding my way to Nick Valentine’s place was hard enough, and it was in a city, yet I still got lost. I came across Goodneighbor as I ran from a twenty foot tall tower of tower. If Codsworth could lead me to the place I was meant to go to, it'd speed things up.

“Why, yes mister Grimm, I serve the missus and the others!” Sweet nonexistent God.

“I'm meant to pick up something from there, could you take me to whoever’s in charge? I've got some food I can spare.” I offered. Anyone eating radroach would definitely want anything other than that. Tins of beans and cram would have to suffice.

“No, that would be a poor thing to do to a guest!” Codsworth sounded appalled, since offering food was **_so_ ** scandalous. He floated away, gesturing with his buzz saw for me to follow. A domestic robot with a buzz saw. The first time I saw one years ago, I immediately knew why the world went to shit.

“Come on! The missus must be hungry by now!”

 

* * *

 

My first warning that things were suspicious was the diner. Signs of people living there were evident, particularly the items displayed on the counter. My guess was that whoever had been living there was either dead or had moved on. Judging by the crows pecking at the bodies, my hunch told me the latter was true. What remained of a dark skinned woman and a pale man were strewn about in pieces. Fuck, it was like a gruesome jigsaw puzzle. Codsworth levitated beside me, making a tutting noise.

“Ghastly people. They were harassing a poor mother and son, good thing the missus came along and sorted them out!” The “missus”, as Codsworth referred to them as, needed sorting out too. I kept that to myself and asked the Mister Handy a question.

 “So where are the mother and son then?” Silence. **_Well that was a good sign!_ **

“Who the hell even is the ‘missus’?” I pressed, inconspicuously reaching for my revolver. Codsworth turned to face me, still moving. **_Not creepy at all!_**

“She's a great mother! I served her and the master when I was first programmed. She was so kind and affectionate, especially towards young master Shaun!” The way Codsworth spoke flicked a switch. Alarms were ringing mentally, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

“When were you first programmed?”

“October 21st, 2076!”

“That was a year before the bombs dropped. So you're saying that you've been serving the same woman for two hundred years? And you're sure her son’s name is Shaun?” Piper's article flashed through my mind, details appearing before my eyes.

 “Yes I'm certain!” Codsworth confirmed cheerfully. “Why, is something the matter?”

“No, I just read about her somewhere. She's a mutual friend, if you could call us that.” Codsworth hummed with delight.

“I didn't know she was a celebrity!”

 So I was going to see Piper's vaultie friend. I imagined what she was going to be like, I suspected the stereotypical uncertain and shy badass. An oxymoron if I ever heard one. Piper's paper highlighted the fact that the vaultie was looking for her son, and I wished that her son was with her. Which didn't seem likely.

 My mind went from that depressing thought to the looping song.

“I got spurs that jingle jangle jingle.” I was really fucked up.

Like a hallucination, a red rocket rose over the horizon. As we got closer, I could see an intact gas station stand proudly. The perfect symbol of consumerism and inflation.

 Reading had been a passion of mine, and still was when I could find books, which were rarer than comics for some reason. They taught me much about America, the strange land I had found myself in, including it's fall from grace. Hyperinflation and the Resource Wars confused twelve year old me.At the time, I couldn’t understand why the US government invested in betraying it's allies and basically warmongering for the sake of oil, instead of seeking out renewable energies and negating the risk of war. Yet, it wasn't until I was an adult that I realised why the government did that: power. What did that power bring? Fire and death. I stared wistfully at the gas prices, the last real testament to what little power was left. And it only cost a few thousand dollars per gallon.I could see why Piper wrote the article on the kid, making me want to interrogate the vaultie, whose name I couldn't remember. Grimm, bad with directions **_and_ ** names. The vaultie’s knowledge on the old world fascinated me, I had heard so much about it these confectionery cakes called “brownies”, and I sorely, no desperately, needed to know what they tasted like. Glad to know I had my priorities straight. Dealing depressing thoughts with one hand, and eating brownies in the other. Passing the gas station, a rickety old bridge, which, unlike the proud Red Rocket, was on its last legs. Beyond the bridge, stood a beautiful site. Quaint discoloured houses dotted a peaceful cobbled street, and a friendly wisp of smoke trailed into the now cloudy sky. In the distance, I could hear the crackling of a soft voice crooning away at a tune that would most likely be lodged within my head.

Excitedly, Codsworth sauntered over without legs, an action I'd thought I'd never have thought would be possible, but the way the Mister Handy moved screamed elegance and professionalism. I expected the same of his human counterpart and whoever else lived in the surprisingly graceful settlement.Hesitantly, I placed an unsteady foot onto the rotten planks, and shifted my weight onto it. So far, so good. The rest of the bridge turned out fine, but the town itself lost it's charm when I crossed the threshold. Most of the tiny houses had collapsed, even the ones that hadn't were crumbling, or just generally awful. I hadn't expect much, I was just disappointed by the lack of cleanliness. A prewar person and a Mister Handy could do a lot with the sight before me.The smell, on the other hand, could not be changed. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and it was evident that something had been burning. It was a mix between charred ferals and rotten flesh, two distinct stenches in their own right. How people lived here was anybody's guess. I shouldn't have judge, I'd lived in shittier places. In fact, it was amazing that people had places to live.

Ignoring the smell, I walked through the street of forgotten dreams, and whistling away to herself, casually sat on a deck chair, was none other than the infamous vaultie. Head laid back, cigar in her mouth and reading glasses over her short blonde hair, and she was….

Talking?

“I love you too Nate.” she murmured absent-mindedly, scratching her messy blonde hair dreamily. She puffed her cigarette and shook her head violently, sending the glasses flying.

“No, I'm not saying that honey, plea-” The imaginary voice cut her off and must have said something upsetting, because the vaultie picked up the nearby radio and smashed it against the pavement.

Unsuccessfully, I tried to grab her attention by clearing my throat, but I was ignored.

“I…..understand.” the vaultie whimpered, plucking the lit cigar from her mouth and jamming it against her hand. **_The hell?!_ ** Codsworth heard her crying out loud, and rushed to her aid.

“Miss Joy, you must not hurt yourself!” he voiced scaldingly, sounding like a disapproving parent rather than someone in need of help.

“Shit, are you okay?!” I asked, shrugging off my bag urgently and kneeling by the clearly insane woman. Again, I was unnoticed, even when I tore the cigar from her hand, throwing it in the same direction as the radio, and easing her back into the chair.

Quickly, I found some bandages and I wrapped it around Joy’s hand. Once I was done, I stood up again and shook her shoulders gently. Joy reset herself, looking at me with a blank stare.

“Oh, hey, can I help you?” she smiled sheepishly.

“What. The. Fuck. Was. That.” I breathed, concerned yet terrified about the vaultie. She frowned, then giggled. “What was what, silly?” Her face was young, younger than me, and that made everything terrifying.

“You're just a kid.”

“I'm not **_that_** young, sugar.” she giggled, giddy as a junkie on jet. The southern accent wasn't unfamiliar, to me, but it was certainly uncommon, and neither were her actions.

“I'll go grab some dinner!” Codsworth decreed unhelpfully, floating away into one of the destroyed houses. The damn thing was as worthlessness as a deathclaw without claws.

“Where are the others?” I asked, checking her other hand, which was littered with burn marks. Dammit, I didn't need an unstable vaultie on my hands!

“Well they're all around you, silly. I haven't heard anyone with your accent in years. One time, Nate had a friend….” I drowned out her voice, frowning and checking the woman for any other injuries. Seeing none, I pocketed the opened packet of cigarettes, and I examined the condition of the vault suit she was wearing.

Torn, dirty, and damaged with neglect. Just like her owner.

“It was such a scandal!” she guffawed, lightly slapping my hand with amusement.

“Um, yeah, but where are the others?” Talking to people shouldn't have been this hard. A small framed woman who looked as fragile as porcelain and had just rammed a cigarette into her hand clearly wasn't healthy enough to natter away like an old world socialite.

“Can't you see ‘em? You must not be well if you can't see ‘em silly!” Joy picked her glasses up, wearing them as well as a wide grin.

“Okay,” I drew out the word for an eternity, “I'm here for a package to deliver to Goodneighbor. Can I have it?” The woman sunk into her chair childishly, and frowned as she thought.

“I ain't heard of no Goodneighbor, but my friend Carla is helpin’ me sell my pip-boy.” I only noticed that Joy didn't have a pip-boy on her arm, and it made me wonder why she'd want to sell it.

“Why don't you want to keep it?” I asked gently, squatting down beside her.

“I do wanna keep it, but Nate said that I couldn't, and I had to get rid of it. Preston said I could keep it, but I didn't wanna upset Nate.” She whispered the last part. “We're married y’see.”

Deciding to play along, I nodded understandingly.

“You wouldn't want to upset your husband,” I agreed somewhat condescendingly, “but could I talk to Preston, I just remembered that I know him.” Lying was wrong, I knew that, but when dealing with people like these, it was better to play along than potentially cause a fit of rage.

“Oh, I didn't realise that Preston was expectin’ visitors. Preston is inside the house with the workbench, same with the pip-boy. Help yourself.” Was I meant to pay? I'd sort it out with whoever Preston was, if he existed at all.

Wary of the insane Joy, I hobbled towards an even more devastated building, which smelt worse than the rest of the town. My eyes were watering, as I saw a small box with “pip-boy” scrawled across it sitting on a crimson workbench. Carefully, I picked it up, and walked through the door.

“Excuse me?” Silence. Only the sound of flies could be heard. I knocked on the door frame, hoping for an answer. Nothing. Slowly, I crept into the main room, and walked down a small corridor. I gagged at the smell, wondering what would make me feel like that.

 

Bodies.

 

Strewn about, a pile of guts, organs, mangled limbs, all neatly stacked on a dresser. The heads were lined up on the floor, each twisted with horror and fear. One even had a comical hat, covering it's dark, devoured skin. They were what remained of the others I guessed. Some of the flesh had been stripped away, but it was clear what they would say to me if they could talk.

 

Run.

 

So I ran. Out of the room, out of the house, and straight into Joy.

“Nate, you silly, what are you doing?” I tried to get up, but the psychopath who mistook me for her dead husband straddled me, playing with my hair.

“You're such a clutz, what am I gonna do with you?” she giggled, not noticing me struggling. How much did she fucking weigh?

I was panicking. Pure. Terror. Hyperventilating. Calm. Down. Calm. Down. With all my might, I heaved the woman off me, and picked up the package.

“Come back Nate!” she called frantically, scrambling after me. By the time I was over the bridge, I faintly heard her screaming “Nate” over and over again. I didn't stop running. The moon loomed over me judgmentally, like it knew what happened. **_It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault._** Without warning, I collapsed against a tree, and sobbed. Images were flashing past me, most of them about **_her._ ** Now was not the time for flashbacks!

“She's not here, she's not here, she's not here.” I repeated, rocking backwards and forwards. Joy wasn't the only one with issues.

Perhaps the last thing I had expected from the Commonwealth were tears. Repressed memories and experiences had shaped who I was, which was the same for everyone. Which was pretty pathetic that I had let those experiences get the better of me. I might have reflected on the fact that prewar folk could seek mental help and advice. Maybe I would have gone to such a place. If it existed. Instead, I was huddled pathetically under a dead tree, wishing for the world to just fade away. Everything around me was dead, and I relapsed into the darkness. It wasn't **_her_ ** , I kept telling myself. The vaultie wasn't **_her_ **. Guess I hadn't fully gotten over those days, even if my scars had. The physical ones anyway. My breathing returning to normal, I stood up and brushed myself off as if nothing happened. Nothing did happen after all, just a fool being foolish. That wasn't going to be the case anymore. Not shaking anymore, I picked up the box and began to make my way to Goodneighbor. With my fake smile in hand, I trotted down a cracked road, singing casually.

 “I got spurs that jingle jangle jingle….”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my darkest chapter. Neat. Chapter six of a long story, so don't go anywhere or I'll....do nothing because I can't force anyone to do anything. Don't do vegetales, stay in los drogas, and eat your education system!


	7. Sweet as Sugar

I never thought I'd be back in Diamond City. Quite literally because I got lost. Again. Made a left instead of a right, and somehow I ended up beating a super mutant to death with a baseball bat.

 Furiously, I splintered the dead guard’s bat against the brute’s misshapen head, causing it to cave in. Chucking the bat back to the strangely armoured corpse, I whipped out my revolver and fired at the remaining mutant, closing the gap between us each time I pulled the trigger. By the sixth shot, it staggered backwards, impaling itself onto a metal spike. Why did super mutants use such deadly decorations?

 Looting the bodies, I surveyed the battlefield. Stray carcasses littered the pavement, human and beast alike. I was tempted to see what goods the guards had, but apparently that counted as grave robbing. The guards were friendly enough to let me wipe out the mutants harassing them, though, so I couldn't complain. Tired, I hoped that Piper would be happy to see me. Did I leave in the middle of the night after promising to look after myself? Yes, but it wasn't like she was the boss of me. She was just a random reporter I had met. Who had also met the ironically named Joy. If Piper could make that psychopath’s life look like a fluff piece, what would she make out of mine?

 Actually, I was only in Diamond City for Piper. Not because I needed to see a friend, or anything mushy, but I needed to get to Goodneighbor. I didn't trust myself to walk to the drug den alone, and I was bad with directions. Which was why I was in Diamond City. My only solution was to ask the reporter nicely. Maybe she'd even grant me a quick death! Just so long as I could grab a quick bite before my imminent death. I couldn't go to hell on an empty stomach!

 And hell didn't exist anyway

I was just hungry.

 “You tryin’ to make us look bad?” a guard snorted, his head so far up his ass that he spewed shit.

“You're doing a great job of it yourself. Learn how to shoot, or be shot.” I yawned, bored out of my mind. Ignoring the blank stare of the helmeted guard- mainly because I couldn't see his face- I picked up the precious box containing the pip-boy and sauntered up to the entrance to Diamond City. A miserable ginger haired guard was slumped against a worktop, in desperate need of a smile. He looked like a Jerry. I hadn't noticed him last time on account of my injuries.

 Grumpily, Jerry huffed and pulled out a battered clipboard and pencil.

“What are you here for? Be good for the logs.” he mumbled, likely annoyed that he was assigned to such a mind-numbingly bureaucratic job.

“I'm just visiting the reporter.” I answered casually. Jerry sighed some more, and scribbled something down.

“The resident trouble maker. You make sure that she doesn't pull the wool over your eyes like she did with that vault dweller.”

 “What can you tell me about the vaultie then?” I asked, a ghost of a smile on my face. The key to information was gossip. I was hungry for information about Joy. And food. I knew that I shouldn't have been actively seeking information about her, however, I wanted to be prepared for our next counter. It was almost a certainty that we'd meet again, as Joy was a vault dweller. Those radiation-free bastards had a nasty habit of popping up in the middle of a situation, and helping people out. And what did I do? I also had a nasty habit of popping up in the middle of a situation and helping people out.

 By that logic, our paths would cross at some point. As much as I didn't like it, I had to know who she was.

“You should speak to Piper about that, she's the one who wrote the story about her. Good luck with Piper by the way.” Jerry unhelpfully informed me. Secretly, it was a blessing in the long run. I didn't need to become obsessed again. Even if it was a different obsession.

“Cheers anyway. I'll bring you a cola later. You look like you need one.” With that, I strolled into the city.

 A wave of homeliness washed over me, and I stopped for a minute. This was the only time I had stopped to truly look at the city. I was either bleeding or coming back from a job, and I'd only been in the city twice! Those moments where I just absorbed everything around me were truly special. I'd seen the sun rise, and I had a half-hearted glance around the market, but the whole scene was breathtaking. The shanty town screamed despair, but at the same time, it offered hope. People were rebuilding and living semi normal lives, even if that normal life included a bus sitting atop a shack. How the hell did that bus get up there? The comical vehicle made me chuckle, although the cluster of rusted roofs reminded me that there was still a ways to go before things were normal. If normal meant anything.

 Walking down the steps leading down into the city, I noticed my favourite devil, Nat, preaching about the latest edition of the paper.

“Read all about it! Brotherhood airship spotted off the coast!” She bellowed, impressing me with her vocal range. Nat would be great at singing. I didn't pay attention to the headline, too focused on the sneaky kid standing on her battered crate.

 “Hey Nat, long time no see.” I grinned widely. The imp spun her head to face me, wide eyed and excited for a moment, before collecting her emotions and coolly observing me.

“Hey mister Grimm, got any more stuff for me?”

I shook my head energetically, “Sorry kid, purely on business. You're allowed to smile you know?” I was referencing her bizarre act of concealing her feelings.

“I don't like to smile around strangers, even if you've been nice to me.” she confessed sheepishly.

“Piper acts like we're not strangers.”I commented.

“Yeah, probably because of the shades, m-” Nat was cut off when I was slapped by a red faced Piper.

 “You crazy, good for nothin’ bastard!” she squeaked, trying very hard to be scary, only to look like a stroppy child. She even stomped her foot.

“Good to see you too?” I murmured as I rubbed my face. Only Piper could ruin my plans of talking to her **_after_ ** I ate. Food would have to wait.

 “You left!” she hissed, hurt in her voice. Me being the bastard that I was, walked away to a sign brazenly displaying “Power Noodles”. I wasn't in the mood for noodles, but the server was a servitron with a chef's hat!

 Alas, I was dragged away from my noble pursuit into the dungeon of a ferocious dragon. In other words, I was being pulled into Piper's house.

“Help.” I looked pleadingly towards Nat, who only winked and put her hands into a heart.

**_What the fuck was happening?!_**

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You walked out in the middle of the night!” Piper screamed.

“Do you want custody of the kids or something?” I asked stupidly.

“This isn't funny, Grimm!” Piper screamed, and began to cry and knelt on the floor. Okay, this was getting ridiculous. Sighing, I walked out of the room and into the market. Swiftly, I returned with a bowl of noodles and handed it to Piper.

“Tada.” I grunted, handing over the soup to the sobbing Piper. Calmly, I walked up the ladder to what I assumed was Piper's room, and returned with a blanket.

Why was I always dumped with the emotionally inept people? Being such a person myself, I couldn't do much to help anyone, but here I was, wrapping a blanket around a stranger, who was complex and confusing.

“I'm not going to ask why you're crying, but if it's any consolation, I blew up a behemoth. It was pretty badass, if I say so myself.”

“Sorry.” Piper began, “I know it's weird that I'm crying, but you just remind of someone.”

“Dead?” I guessed, sitting on the couch.

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence settled between us, as Piper quietly ate her soup. I was hungry, but common etiquette dictated that I looked after sad people. I didn't have to deal with this shit in Vegas. I got paid for dealing with raiders not feelings years ago. It wasn't a bad gig, and if things had played out differently, I'd have still been in Camp McCarran.

Things weren't different. Piper put her bowl and chopsticks down, then eyed me curiously.

“A behemoth?” a shy smile danced on the reporter's lips.

“Yup. Right out of a pond. I kinda got lost, and got shot at. Then out of nowhere, some giant hand crushed everything around me!”

“What happened next?” Piper asked, her face resuming her normal shade of pink.

“I died and went to hell. Doesn't look too bad, I've been in worse places.” Looking around the room, I nodded appreciatively, making Piper laugh.

“No. What really happened?”

I recounted my tales, from nuking the hell out of the behemoth, to meeting the king of zombie pirates. Sure, I left out meeting Joy, but Piper didn't need to know that. The poor girl had enough on her plate.

I wasn't even going to acknowledge that I reminded her of someone. My guess was that they were dead. Not surprising.

“....So because I'm bad with directions, I wound up here. I've got this box to deliver to Hancock, and I was maybe wondering if you could be my guide?” Pragmatically, Piper knew the area and people, so I wouldn't get lost again. Plus there was the added bonus of her being a human shield.

I didn't care about the girl, I just couldn't specifically say that I wanted to use her to soak up bullets.

I was an asshole, but I was a logical one.

“Gloomy, are you asking me to come with you to Goodneighbor?” Piper asked, finishing her noodles.

“If that's how you want to think, sure. I was just thinking we could shoot up some raiders and see our good friend Hancock!”

“You don't even know him.”

“That's not important, he laughed at me! Anyone who laughs at me usually ends up dead or my friend!” I summed up positively. Friend was a subjective term. They didn't die at least! Well most of them. Some of them.

“Whatever Gloomy, whatever. I just want to say thanks.”

“For what?”

“Putting up with me, I've been pretty strange around you.”

“That's fine, I honestly don't care why you're like this.” I admitted, scratching my head.

“So you're not wondering why I was crying?” Piper asked, looking at me the way a person would look at a one headed brahmin.

“I mean, usually you never find out everything about a person at once. I was thinking you'd tell me after I saved your life, and I'd be all surprised and act amazed about the fact that you once smoked the ashes of your childhood pet called Shades. Since I remind you of Shades, you're sad.” My theory, sadly, was not correct.

“No, Jesus Gloomy, how dark are you?”

“Well you'll have to find out!” I cheerfully summed up, “Now come on, we're going outside! I'm hungry!” Those noodles looked disgusting, so no more gibberish speaking robot- even if he did wear a chef's hat- instead I was going to the only other place I could actually find in the city!

Vadim Bobrov was a hearty, red-faced individual, and perhaps a bit drunk. His charming sway and slurred words, either through his accent or the booze, greeted us as we walked in.

“Gloomy,” Piper nudged me slightly and stopping me, “are you sure you want to eat here?” Happily, I strolled on, nodding.

“I'm sure, same atmosphere as- well, a place.” I **_definitely_ ** didn't slip up on purpose. My fiery friend held her hands up in audible disbelief.

“You're killing me here!” she whined as the bar opened up around us.

“Tell you what, if you save my life, you can ask whatever you want reporter, and I'll answer.” I bargained. Looking around, I had to congratulate Vadim on decorating the place. Slightly dirty sofas were neatly coordinated in a close huddle, obviously to encourage social talking, and therefore social drinking. If everyone had a drink in their hand, it'd make people who had just come in want a drink. Unfortunately, it was working.

“Ah, friends!” called Vadim, finally noticing us. I politely nodded, and sat down on a stool, with Piper following suit.

“Hey Vadim,” Piper responded, “can we get some drinks over here, this time **_without_ ** the poison?” Eyes full of questions, I tilted my head and slightly raised an eyebrow.

“I'm guessing there's a story there.”

“You won't tell me anything, so why should I?”

“I'll tell you plenty of things, including a tale about a friendly cannibal who owned a pet deathclaw called Sparky. Surely you'd be interested in that?” I countered, itching to tell that story. **_That_ ** was more interesting than I was! Still, Piper remained adamant.

“Don't try and trick me! I know a story when I see one!” she insisted.

“It's more of a horror story.” I grumbled, as Vadim brought two murky bottles over. Tapping the bartender on the shoulder, I politely asked for cram, which, expectedly, earned a sigh from Piper.

“Not if you want food poisoning. He'll have a Salisbury steak, Vadim.” I mouthed sorry to the poor man, who merely grinned back and elegantly strode off. When he was out of sight, Piper turned to me.

“I saved your life, you owe me an answer.” she smugly tapped her fingers on the counter.

“When was that?” I asked, missing the cram that would never come. Cram was easy to find, just because nobody liked it, so I had learned to love it. Now, I was having steak.

“Just now. You only get cram if you have a deathwish. So, you owe me an answer to a question I choose.”

“What type of fucked up logic is that? I **_like_ ** cram, but fine. Ask away. That's the only time I'm letting you off the hook!” Here was the haunting question. The moment of terror and despair. Where I'd have to become a disconsolate prisoner to my own past.

“What's up with you telling stories?”

What.

“Excuse me?”

“You start talking about random things and stories all the time, so why do you do that and where'd you come across them?”

“I was talking about a tap dancing molerat and aliens at one point.” I pointed out bored. “And have you seen any of those.”

Yes.

“No.”

“That doesn't matter. The point is, why do you talk about pet deathclaws and becoming ruler of a kingdom?” That was a waste of a question.

“ **_That's_ ** what you're asking? Why I tell stories?”

“It's not a hard question, Gloomy.” Piper stated, unaware of her poor journalist skills.

“Because it distracts people from how broken I am.” I answered truthfully. Everyone would break had they been through what I had been through. The problem was that a lot of people had. I'd have laughed if it were funny.

“You should have asked something else, really.” I told Piper cheerfully.

“What should I have asked then?”

“Literally, anything else. You had a free question to ask someone who lived outside of this American wasteland, and wears glasses everywhere, not to mention that I only use a shitty revolver. You could have asked why I did any of that, but instead you're asking about why I talk about Steven the molerat!”

“Why do you wear glasses?” Piper questioned

“That, Piper, is a question, and do you know how to get me to answer it?”

“Torture you?”

“I've been there, done that. I hope you don't plan on drinking both of those bottles. I need you to stay sober.” Worryingly, I eyed the reporter chug one bottle down instantly.

“Aren't you going to drink yours?”

“Nope, I don't drink.” Booze was bad. **_Very_ ** bad. Borderline alcoholism was fun!

“Too bad.” Piper shrugged, knocking back the second bottle swiftly. That was one way to get ready. Shocked, I just watched her as she didn't even blink, her ruby lips seemingly bonded with the opaque bottle. Neatly placing the two empty bottles side by side, the insanely sober Piper placed caps on the counter, and jerked her head towards the entrance.

“Is it always happy hour for you?” I breathed, stunned at Piper's impressive display.

“No, it's to deal with you.” the reporter laughed, heading for the entrance. I got up, and meandered into the night alongside her. An empty void hovered overhead, stealing the radioactive heat and spreading a bitter chill over the air. Pale and solemn, the moon was glowed meekly, it's unhealthy pallor affecting it's strength. The eternal abyss seemed to rule the night. That was our only company, besides each other and the voice in my head whispering to me.

“I hope Piper knows that you're insane.” He said, and then wordlessly chastising and belittling me. Other than that, I was happy, mainly because I had….

Wait.

“Dammit!” I groaned, as we stood by the pond that unleashed the behemoth. Worried, Piper drew a small pistol that I had no idea she had, and looked around frantically.

“What?!” she hissed. With utter sorrow, my lip quivered, and my body slackened.

 

“I didn't get any food!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're ready for more dialogue! And more dialogue! Did I mention the dialogue? Being a self aware cringey writer is never a good thing, mainly because I have sarcasm to beat my insecurities with! Oh boy, that sarcasm and self deprecation sure looks fantastic! I guess it's a short chapter, and next week's chapter should be longer! Just like my list of reasons why molerats are great!


	8. Death and Indifference

I was starving. That much was certain. Did I want to grab something to eat? Most definitely. Did Piper want to go along with me? Most definitely not. Unluckily for her, I was the one who called the shots, or maybe she wanted me to think that. Eventually, we compromised and went to some “Zone” or some shit like that. Full of raiders, according to my favourite reporter, and we were going to “scope it out”.

“Fine by me.” I said after hearing her suggestion. It was not fine.

Smashing a raider’s head against a shelf, I reflected on the thirty seconds where everything was fine. Maybe it was Piper's bold red blazer that gave it away. It could have been the fact that I “sounded funny”.

It could have been, but it probably wasn't, that I shot someone because they looked funny. They weren't laughing now that they were covered in their brains.

They were shooting at us though, which was bad. Picking up a double barreled shotgun that was owned by the raider who I had just bludgeoned with a wall, I cackled like the crazy bastard I was. A shotgun in one hand, and a revolver in another. This was going to be fun. A poor raider ran at me with a **_wooden plank_ ** , and I shook my head, embarrassed for my next victim. A stream of blood burst out of her head, and she dropped the plank, before toppling onto it. Whistling appreciatively at my temporary weapon, I decided to help out Piper, who was stuck behind overturned boxes, firing at a group of raiders.

“Fuck it.” I thought, as I rushed wildly towards Piper's attackers. I'd have imagined that seeing a strange bloke wearing glasses and a pink backpack, wielding two random guns, was terrifyingly amusing, or amusingly terrifying. In either case, they fell head over arse, running away from me, but I still persisted in killing them. The sooner they were dead, the sooner I could eat cram!

One raider, in a spectacular fashion, lagged behind, and didn't manage to scurry up a set of stairs that led to a second level of what looked like a renovated theatre. Sensing an opportunity, I shot him in the leg, disappointed that I missed his back, and walked over to his writhing body.

“Please don't! I'll give you anything!” he cried, a sackcloth over his face muffling his speech. I looked at him where I thought his eyes were, and smiled crazily.

“I want cram!” I screamed eloquently, blasting the sackcloth king's face with lead.

Dropping the shotgun, I moved up the stairs, eager to get my beloved food. The remaining raiders were swearing profusely at me, too busy badly aiming at me to notice Piper picking off the poor excuses for scumbags. The Fiends were truly great raiders. Rapists, raging junkies, psychopaths, and not to mention well equipped. Nephi had a golf club, Violet had her dogs, Cook-Cook had a flamethrower, and Roulette had the….

Well, he had the revolver.

But what did these guys have? Stupid rotten pieces of wood. And those were the guns! Pathetically, their bullets bounced around the chairs I was hiding amongst, as I giggled childishly. Finally, one got impatient and stormed over to my hiding place, and lasted about a few moments, before I shot them repeatedly, and reloaded. The raiders were extremely incompetent, and I didn't think they appreciated me messing with them.

Hoping to end this, I stood up and sprinted over to the idiots. Forcefully, I shoved one off the small walkway we stood on, and watched as he fell and collided with the dingy floor. It was a long drop, so I didn't expect him to get up.

“Break a leg!” I called down to the body, then spun to face the remaining three. Well, remaining two because the third had run down the stairs. Piper could deal with that one. One of the future cadavers aimed his rifle at me, chuckling darkly.

“It's going to jam.” I told him, not moving. Confused, he hesitated, allowing me to raise my revolver and give him a parting gift on the way to hell. The remaining raider brought himself to his knees, and sobbing loudly.

“What are you?” he whispered.

“I'm just a hungry person, blame Piper.” I responded, pressing my revolver against his head and pulling the trigger multiple times. He was lucky I didn't toy with him. Checking the chamber, I counted one bullet. “Let's play a game.” I mumbled to myself, reminded of days gone by.

“It was fun wasn't it.” a voice spoke into my ear. It wasn't Piper. Happily, He crouched down to the raider I had just killed.

“You should have done it you know.” He tutted, His ethereal fingers brushing through the corpse.

“Seriously? You're still here?” I asked, tempted to shoot him.

“I'd rather you not shoot me, and I'm a part of you, remember?”

“I'd rather not remember.” I mimicked his speech, no, **_my_ ** speech. He didn't exist! He couldn’t mimic anything!

“So Piper seems nice, not as great as-”

“Can you just shut up?”

“Why'd I want to do that?”

“Because Piper's going to think I'm crazy.”

“You are crazy though,” He yawned, “you are downright insane! But so is your new friend.”

“And this is helpful because?”

“I only know what you know, you just gotta put the pieces together.” He stood up, and looked at me, his mouth stretched into a cocky grin. “I'll see you around, maybe we can play a round with the revolver?” I was startled by a hand, softly placing itself on my shoulder. Whipping around, I could see Piper wearing an amused smirk.

“They're dead Gloomy, ain't much for conversation.” she told me.

“I know that, anyway, where's the food?” I asked hungrily.

“Downstairs, but there's something you need to see, there's not much I could do for her.”

“Her?” What was Piper on about? Walking down the hazardous stairs, I noticed a giant cage in the shape of a dome, with mangled corpses that I suspected neither me nor Piper mutilated. When we reached the dome, I finally saw what Piper was referring to: a redheaded woman lying in the middle of the body pile. Struggling to get up, she smiled weakly, before coughing up dried blood, and settling into lying on her back. Psycho overdose. I gave her a few minutes before she joined the pile of bodies.

“I did good didn't I?” she groaned, in an accent similar to mine. Sitting down, I hoisted her head up and carefully leant it onto my lap. I nodded sympathetically, understanding how much pain she was going through. She sighed contently, blood leaking from her eyes. Piper knelt down next to me, and kept her head down. Quietly, I hummed a sad tune, trying to recall the words.

“ **_Why does my heart go on beating_ ** ?” I began, as the redhead began to convulse and shake, blood spewing out of her mouth. “ **_Why do these eyes of mine cry_ **?”I wiped away the blood from her eyes, and brushed her head slowly, trying to ease her pain.

“ **_Don't they know it's the end of the world_ **?” The shaking reached its peak, before the woman stopped, and let out one last strangled sigh. The last line was barely a whisper as I closed her eyes.

 

“ **_It ended when you said goodbye_ ** …”

 

* * *

 

 

When we entered Goodneighbor, we were sombre, for different reasons. Piper was sad because someone she appeared to know was dead. I was upset because the woman died from an overdose.

“When I was out west, a few years ago, one of my friends died from an overdose.” I muttered quietly, not expecting Piper to catch on. She looked at me, waiting for me to carry on.

“He was the only person who knew about my past, and quite frankly, he was a great person. The last thing he said to me was ‘if you smile, some of the pain goes away’. I don't know how you knew that woman back there, but you can't afford to be sad, smile, even if it hurts. Because if the wasteland sees you upset, then you've already lost.” Not the most rousing speech, nor the most true. None of my friends had died from an overdose, but it was still something that hurt me.

My memories forced me back to a dark room, lit only by a small candle. In the middle, a child-

No. I was not going to relive that, it wasn't something I was too keen on remembering. Now remembering the time I shot someone over a slice of pie? **_That_ ** was something I wanted to remember.

“Thanks Grimm.” Piper seemed a little lighter and held herself a fraction higher. “She was nothing special, a one night stand if you want to call it that. Cait was a fighter, and she went down fightin’, so maybe you're right. Gotta stay on my toes, and make it hard for you to keep up.”

“It's already hard to keep up, I lost out on cram twice now!” I grumbled.

“We'll get some at the Third Rail, so shut your trap, and let's deliver whatever you need to deliver.” I squinted slowly, realisation and panic threatening to break my facade.

“Piper?”

“What?”

“I don't have the box…” I admitted sheepishly. I could see Piper glaring at me coolly, and then she gripped my shoulders.

Oh God. This was how I was going to die. Slowly, she turned me around, and unzipped my ridiculous bag. In it was the box. At first, I didn't know how to feel. Confused. Amazed. Angry. The other thing I really wanted to know was one thing.

“ ** _Where the fuck are my comic books?!_ ** ” I hissed, feeling the world grow dark and miserable.

“Calm down! Jesus, Gloomy, they're safe. Nat is looking after them.” Piper explained, tucking the package under her arm. Gazing into the bag, I noticed that my stims and ammo were still at the bottom of it. How had she packed something so well? Sorcery! Hurrying after Piper, I was so confused about the wonders of packing!

Hancock grinned creepily as we crossed the pathway into his hell-pit. Sharpening his knife, he glared cheerfully at us and cackled loudly.

“Piper, how'd you get wrapped into this?” he greeted us, flipping his blade around casually.

“Gloomy here needed directions, so he came back to see yours truly.” Piper stated.

“Well ain't this a sweet little meet up! What, are you going to start declaring your love for each other?”

“Hell no Hancock!” screamed the reporter. I obviously was very tame in my response.

“Fuck off.” I grunted, “Now, here's your stupid package.” Piper handed the box to Hancock, and waited impatiently.

“So, what's in it?” she asked inquisitively.

“A pip-boy.” Hancock explained, “From that icicle you interviewed.” So much for secrecy.

“Is that so?” I could feel the hatred roll off of Piper. Nervously, I hummed and looked around the room. A spiral staircase most definitely spiralled in a spiral-like manner, and it represented something to do with spirals. The wood was wooden and made of wood, of what kind, I didn't know or care. It really brought the room, or lobby, together. I was running out of things to be distracted by, so I coughed awkwardly.

“So…..payment?” Hancock's void-filled eyes glistened with some sort of sick amusement, and he nodded.

“Yeah about that.” he mumbled, embarrassed. “Turns out that the gal that wanted to sell it dropped by yesterday and said that she gave it to someone called Nate, or something like that.” Piper looked at me, less angry than shocked, and frowned.

“So what do I do with it then?” I asked. The ghoul laughed, and threw an arm over both me and Piper. Worrying, I looked at Piper, who seemed to be calm about the current situation. Was I being led to my death? I couldn't have cared less, as long as I didn't end up with the pip-boy.

I ended up with the pip-boy.

 

* * *

 

 

“ ** _Fuck_ **!” I groaned, in between mouthfuls of cram. The spoon I was using didn't look clean, but the mister handy who gave it to me told me to piss off, so I was stuck with it. Beside me, Piper was sprawled over the stained, grimy sofa that we shared. In one hand, was a beer, or some form of alcohol, and in the other hand rested her head, which seemed to be pointed in the direction of the singer. The singer, was talented and sung spectacularly, but I think that Piper wasn't focusing on the song. It was just an excuse to avoid the awkward conversation that was going to come up. When I finished the can of processed meat, I got up, with the empty tin and the pip-boy box in each hand, and walked over to the floating mister handy with that amazing bowler hat. What was it with hats and robots? The Commonwealth was strange, but it certainly wasn't a wild wasteland.

“Didn't I tell you to piss off?” the robot sneered, cleaning a dirty glass.

“Unless you don't want more caps you glum sod.” I smirked, tapping my foot on the filthy floor.

“Fine, what do you want?” the mister handy gave in, ready to slide me some booze

“Nuka Cola.” I decided. It wasn't a decision, but I tricked myself into thinking that. Man, was I crafty. A new voice piped up, and I then noticed a lack of singing.

“Staying sober, are we?” the voice whispered huskily.

**_Please don't be the singer._ **

**_Please don't be the singer._ **

**_Please don't be the singer._ **

When I turned around, I was **_fucking_ ** surprised to see the **_fucking_ ** singer inches away from me, and of course **_fucking_ ** Piper was standing by her.

“I guess so?” I shrugged, really begging the non-existent gods for an opportunity to actually finish a drink that wasn't water. Was it that hard to get a nuka cola?!

“Real great set this evening ma’am.” Piper meekly complimented the pesky singer, “Of songs, that. Is it warm in here?” Poor Piper, struggling to interact with humans. I was the same, but Piper was in an entire league of her own! She and Joy the psycho vaultie belonged together, just awkwardly talking to each other. That would just end up with Joy sleeping with Piper. I didn't want that image in my head. I was insane, but I didn't need another thing to mess with me. The singer was oblivious to the reporter's flirting, that or she was too stunned to acknowledge it, and noted my silence.

“What's the matter, sweetheart? Don't tell me you didn't like the song?” Song? I tried to wrack my brains for the song she was singing, but my mind was blank. Unhelpfully, it screamed the same thing repeatedly.

“ **_Bingo, bango, bongo, I'm so happy in the jungle, I refuse to go!_ ** ” Salvaging the situation, I nodded, and said that it was perfect.

“Oh thank you, a girl tries her best.” she didn't call my bluff, and I searched desperately for a way out of the conversation.

“I'd buy you a drink, but I have to leave. Just remembered Hancock wanted me! My friend Piper is a great fan of your singing, so I'm sure she'd love to talk to you.” Thrusting Piper in front of me, I rushed up the stairs and out of the converted subway station. I needed somewhere to hide. Hancock wouldn't mind, he seemed nice! Dropping the cram tin, I clutched to what was, according to the mayor, “my pip-boy”. I was never going to open that box. The moment I was going to put it on, something bad was going to happen. Either being shot in the head and having to hunt my attackers down, or fight off an entire army. Pip-boys always meant trouble. However, I still had it. Any normal person would either wear it or sell it, rather than being a paranoid or superstitious fool. I was not normal, if anybody thought that I was, then they weren't normal either! I stared at the infernal package. Joy mistook me for her dead husband, it seemed. The glorified watch was already causing me trouble. If I got kidnapped again, I wouldn't be a happy camper. If campers were happy. Or if camping was the norm.

Warily, I opened the worn door and entered Hancock's place. What did he call it? It looked like a madhouse, so that's what I named the place. It had occurred to me that I had named a few things. Walking up the spiralled staircase, I could smell the stench of drugs and decay. The stench of home. Hazily, I breathed in both memories and smoke. Luckily, I didn't get another stupid flashback. Flashbacks were for heroes in comics. As if I was a hero.

Funny thing was that nobody was a hero, everyone looked out for themselves, and rightly so. Nobody wanted a knife in the back. I was quite fortunate that the person I was sort of looking out for was harmless. Relatively harmless when compared to the rest of the world. Though the reporter was as strange as a molerat mafia, which did in fact, exist. If Steven ever tracked me down, I was in a lot of shit.

Dull, drab colours were the common theme of Hancock's office. If it wasn't for the mayor himself in his flamboyant clothing, then the room would look commonplace.

“Back so soon?” Hancock was laid back on an uncomfortable looking chair, with empty needles placed comically on his hat.

“I need a place to hide. Piper was badly flirting with a singer.” I complained, sitting on the chair adjacent to him.

“That'd be Magnolia, Piper's been smitten with her for a while now. How'd she get the balls to talk to her?” he asked, vaguely astonished.

“She didn't, Magnolia started to talk to me, and I made a fool of myself, so I dragged Piper over to talk to her, and left.” Still didn't get a nuka cola, which was beyond a joke.

“Piper's a good person. She works too hard and worries too much, but her heart is in the right place. If you hurt her, I'll personally see to it that you die very painfully, understand?”

“Perfectly. The last thing I want to do is to hurt her.” I meant it. Piper didn't deserve to be hurt, especially not by me. Yes I was a horrible person, but Piper looked like she needed a break, something I sympathised with. The whole reason I was in the Commonwealth was to take a break, although that was going downhill, so it was obviously the most fun I had ever had.

“Good, you NCR types like to hurt others, but you don't seem like a total scumbag.” Hancock observed, a lit cigarette suddenly in his mouth.

“Well, I was only in the army for a few years, joined some prestigious group, for bullshit reasons. That's bureaucracy for you. In fact, I ended up on some assignment and joined a group that called themselves-”

I was interrupted by a ridiculous man in a ripped pinstripe suit entering the room.

“Hancock, we've got a problem.” Rising, the mayor made a sign with his hand for me to follow. Great. Another problem. Who was going to have to solve it? The expendable person: me. Leaving the pip-boy box on the chair, I descended the stairs and left the madhouse with Hancock. Outside, stood, not a problem, but a crisis. A woman was struggling to get out of the grip of someone in power armour. On each side of the main power armour wearer, also adorning the wearable tanks, were other helmeted figures. Painted on each chest plate, was a symbol that pissed me off.

The Brotherhood of Steel.

Everyone had their guns pointed at the armoured statues, anger blazing in their hearts. Even Piper was nearby, hastily scrawling something on a notepad. I sighed, and stepped forward.

“You're a little far out east, Knight.” I remarked. All eyes were on me, and I adjusted my shades calmly. My comment was given no response, so I decided to continue.

“I'd like to ask what you're doing to that lady there, and also what gives you the right to storm in here like this. And then I'm going to have to ask you to leave, and let the nice lady go.” Nothing. Not even a whisper. Finally, the person gripping the woman spoke up.

“We are acting under the orders of Elder Maxson. We will not be stopped in our mission, and those who will try to hinder us will be fired upon.” Orderly, and clearly rehearsed. The amount of restraint that was in the robotic voice was evident, and if they didn't wear a helmet, the speaker would surely be looking at me in disdain. So, it was the hard way.

“Thing is, you can't do that. This place is for the people, of the people.” Damn, I was starting to sound like Hancock. “And we don't like being told what to do just because you're compensating for something and have control issues. We especially don't like it when you start taking people out of the blue.” I paused, reaching into my bag. Pulling out a grenade, I laughed as everyone but the brotherhood stepped back.

Yanking out the pin, I clutched the grenade and took off my shades, putting them in my pocket.

 

“I'm going to ask again. Let the lady go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that I kill too many characters! But at least Preston had it coming unlike Cait. Too many settlements! The Irish gal, however, her death was wasn't hard to write, but it wasn't easy. My hand cramped up a few times! If death doesn't interest you, then boy have you come to the wrong place! And my first cliffhanger! Finally!


	9. Pink Hair and Black Hearts

 

The entire town was waiting. Waiting for an explosion or a gunshot, maybe even both. I was waiting for the Brotherhood to leave. The Brotherhood pawns were waiting for me to let go of the grenade clutched in my hand. The air was thick with anticipation, and the starless sky casted an unholy shadow overhead. Still alert, the other Brotherhood knights trained their laser rifles on me, visibly eager to cut me down. I could sense the agitation from the knight in the middle, who continued to grip the woman's arm. I hummed loudly, bored out of my skull. I didn't care less about the lady, I just wanted the Brotherhood to bugger off back to their cave, where they'd drool over a talking toaster bent on world domination. The Brotherhood was a fanatical militaristic group that cared solely for technology, and they would go to any lengths to retrieve it. Someone had a working nuclear generator that powered a city? Not if the Brotherhood had anything to say about it! Thugs and bullies, that's all they were. Too bad they were armed to the teeth with an arsenal of weapons that could bring about another armageddon. Man, my revolver, my weapon of mass destruction couldn't pierce the power armour, but theirs could pierce my fucking soul. A grenade, on the other hand….

“I am a knight of the Brotherhood of Steel. Who do you think you are to stand in my way?” the middle knight demanded. They just pulled that card?!

“Don't pull rank with me, I'm Sergeant Grimm of the NCR Army, and I'm asking **_you_ ** who the fuck you are to come in here and try to take this woman.” I hadn't used that title in a few years. The majority of people out East didn't care, or even know, about the NCR.

“Of course a bureaucrat would try to resolve this. This woman here was caught stealing fusion cores from Boston Airport, which is a Brotherhood stronghold.”

“How'd you even get there?” I would have **_noticed_ ** the Brotherhood marching through the city ruins. The Brotherhood soldiers shifted awkwardly, and the middle one passed the struggling woman over to the soldier on the left.

“Did you not see the Prydwen?” the middle one asked, who was now called Carl.

“The what?”

“It is a Brotherhood airship, the perfect weapon to comb-”

“I don't care about your flying boat. You have technology, good for you, stick it up your ass, and leave the rest of us to our lives.” Carl did nothing for a moment, and took off his helmet.

Carl was a woman. So…..Clare?

“We still have to deal with the thief.”

“Are a few fusion cores really that important?” I imagined a pouty child sitting on a throne of metal pulling a tantrum about the stolen fusion cores.

“Our scribes report thirty missing cores, as well as one injured initiate when she was discovered.” I glared at the woman, who just grinned embarrassed at her current situation. Knight Clare looked at me with blunt brown eyes, and huffed.

“So you can let us take her away, or you can die. Simple as that.” she said in a monotonous tone.

“Or, we can do a trade?” Now that interested Clare. She cocked her head slightly and narrowed her eyes.

“What could you have to offer that is worth more than thirty fusion cores and the life of a scribe?” I had no clue, but I was going to be clever about my approach.

“Surely you know. You have many patrols, and I'd imagine that you have the location of several pieces of tech that you want.”

“If such technology existed, we would have it already.” There was the smug self assurance again. If that was her attitude, then Clare really didn't know how any militaristic group operated.

“There's the problem. Your Elder wouldn't throw away an entire patrol to find a piece of tech that is in an area that hasn't been fully cleared out yet. Your Elder wouldn't throw away the patrol on chance! So, you should do the next best thing: send someone expendable to retrieve the technology!” The NCR utilised such a strategy against Fiends, and if my hunch was correct, then so would the Brotherhood. “We did lose a few knights in that area.” Clare admitted. “Very well, I permit you to retrieve technology in exchange for the thief. We require a reflex capacitor, and you are going to collect it.”

“Excellent!” I beamed, glad we had found common ground. “Now, if you'll just hand over the nice lady-”

“Unacceptable.” the formal knight interrupted.

“Excuse me?”

“How do we know that you will not merely leave the area and not retrieve the capacitor?” That was a tough question. I'd have to give the Brotherhood a bargaining chip, and as I turned around, I saw the perfect one.

“It makes sense. If you have the good lady, you could easily take her back to the airport and carry out whatever form of justice you think is appropriate. Now, if I took the girl and we retrieved this capacitor, we'd be on our merry way to your airport. But, logically you're going to want an assurance that we'll come back, so I'll give you one.” Saying that, I slowly backed away, and warmly tapped Piper on the shoulder, who was surprised by the lack of glasses.

“Grimm, you're eye!” she gasped, not concerned about the situation.

“I'll explain later. Now, I'm going to need you to do something a little crazy.”

“Thats reassuring!” Piper snorted, trying very hard to not look at my face.

“I'm going to need you to go with the nice Brotherhood people.” That didn't go down well.

“What?! Why?!”

“Just trust me.”

“Fine, but you owe me!”

We both walked up to Clare, and I nodded at Piper.

“Here's my reason to go to the airport.” I presented Piper to Clare, and handed the former my shades.

“Keep them safe.” I warned, before turning to the knight.

“Why are you doing this?” Clare asked,a hint of annoyance in her usual monotone voice. “And why shouldn't I shoot you?”

I grinned, and clicked my tongue.

“I just want to fuck with you clockwork dicks.” Which was partially true. “And if you shoot me, then the rest of the Commonwealth won't deal with you, and the rest of the town will probably cut you down. At least, I hope.”

“And the grenade you've got!” Piper added.

“Grenade?”

My hands were empty.

The grenade was on the floor.

I dropped it accidentally a while ago.

“Oh, you used a dud?” Piper laughed. “That's very sneaky, Gloomy. You had me worried.”

“It wasn't a dud.” I replied.

“So, we could have died?”

“Yep.”

I grinned, and rubbed my hands together.

“Now, let's get to business!”

 

* * *

 

 

“So we've got three days to find this capacitor from this Greenetech place.”

“Yep.”

“Which we're going to give to the Brotherhood at the airport.”

“Double yep.”

“And we're going to collect both Piper and my shades.”

“Triple yep.”

“Any questions?”

“What's your name?” The perky girl jumped excitedly up and down, her pink hair bouncing carelessly. I gripped her shoulders tightly to stop the incessant bobbing, and I got a good look of the girl. She had short pink hair sloping one side of her head, covering one eye, whilst the other side was shaved off. For some reason, the eye I could see was also the same shade of pink, probably from some surgery clinic.

“My name is Grimm, what's yours?” If it was a normal name, I would be totally fine. If it was some edgy alias like Grimm, or Joy, or Fuck-face McGee, I would sob violently and internally.

“I'm Sunny!” she bubbly introduced herself, hugging me excitedly.

“Alright, tone down the love.” I squirmed awkwardly, as I was crushed to death by the abnormally strong Sunny.

“Sorry, I'm just so excited!” she squealed, letting go. “You saved my hide, and nobody does that! And now we get to go on an adventure together?! How cool is that?!” I was instantly regretting saving her.

“How old are you?” I asked, slowly dying inside from the cute, innocent attitude.

“I'm the same age as you, mister grumpy pants!” she pouted, crossing her arms together.

“You don't even know how old I am.” I pointed out. I started to walk through the city, Goodneighbor far behind us. For five blissful minutes, we didn't talk, other than Sunny humming deliriously. On the sixth minute, Sunny thought it appropriate to ruin my already shit day.

“How old are you?” she purred, caressing a sniper rifle. Where the hell did that come from?

“Uh, I'm twenty five.” I answered, incredibly unnerved by the way she held her gun and looked at me.

“See, same as me,” she whispered, getting closer. Her pink pupils became dull and glazed over, and she abruptly came to a halt. Smiling unnervingly, she looked to me, then in front of her, and held out a shaky hand.

“Molerats.” she murmured dreamily. I spotted a pack of tiny molerats were clambering over each other, and I chuckled to myself. Cute little things.

Then their heads exploded.

Sunny laughed evilly, then licked her rifle slowly, which was still smoking. She got off her knees, and skipped over to the poor creatures, looking at me for approval.

“Look what I did, Grimm!” she shouted, adjusting her harness. Rushing over to the bloodbath, I stared at the insane girl.

“What the fuck did you do?!” I exclaimed, shocked. They were animals, but there was no need to kill them.

“They were going to attack us anyway.” she muttered, happily stroking her rifle.

“I guess so.”I shrugged, the concern within me growing exponentially. Something was off about Sunny, but aside from killing a few molerats, which was normal, she hadn't done much. I was just paranoid.

“It was brave of your girlfriend to go with the Brotherhood.” Sunny chirped, a slight sharpness to her voice.

“She's not my girlfriend, she's just someone who's been roped into this craziness.”

“Oh, that's nice.” If Sunny was a cultist, I would not be surprised. Stealing fusion cores to build some fucking sacrificial circle to sacrifice me in. It was plausible.

“What were you doing stealing from the Brotherhood anyway?” I asked.

“I was bored.” That was a shit response. The whole reason why I rescued Sunny, aside from sticking it to the tin cans, was because I was interested to know why a grinning woman with pink hair stole had gotten into trouble with the Brotherhood!

“You seriously stole thirty fusion cores because you were bored?”

“Yep.”

“I don't believe you.” It made no sense to steal from boredom. Only dangerous, or insane, people did that. And whilst Sunny was both, she could have easily stolen more than fusion cores without being caught. Her silence spoke volumes, and gave me an opportunity to continue.

“So, here's what I think. You are proud. You love challenges, and what's more challenging than escaping the Brotherhood. If you stole the cores out of boredom, you would have sold them at least, but unless you have a lot of caps stashed somewhere, you didn't sell them.” I'd been in the Commonwealth for a few weeks, around  two. During that short time, I'd met a lot of people who were about as mentally stable as I was, but the neon pink haired girl with her neon pink lips was a new type of crazy. I couldn't believe anybody was like that, but I was wrong, due to the evidence in front of me.

“Ooh, it's like a riddle!” Sunny excitedly spun around. “I wonder what the answer is! Maybe I did it to be friends with those grumpy tin cans!” Her soft features warmly lit up with pure childish glee as she grabbed me by the arm and started to skip.

“What are you doing?” I asked, concerned.

“I want to see our new friends and Piper! Maybe we can visit her sister?”

“Wouldn't that be something.” I muttered, frowning. The pit within my stomach grew, and of course it was the perfect time for Him to make a fucking appearance.

“We really need to stop meeting like this!” He cackled, skipping joyfully skipping alongside Sunny. I didn't respond.

“You've lost the glasses, which is an improvement. You're looking like me!” Self conscious, I used my free arm to run shaky fingers over my scar.

“And that feeling of something that's about to go wrong? It's going to nag at you until you figure it out!” As if He knew.

“I don't know, which is why I'm looking forward to it! You've probably forgotten something back at Goodneighbor, although I'm hoping that it's something scarring!” Ignoring, I turned my head, facing the other side of the street. Being the constant demon, He grinned back at me.

“Aw, come on! You should enjoy yourself, live a little! I, for one, like this Sunny girl. I think that she's probably good in bed, if you kn-”

He was interrupted by gunfire. Ahead, three raiders were shooting at us behind rusted cars. They guarded the remainder of the road, which segmented off into a bridge, that randomly had a makeshift wall and a door leading to it. Beyond the bridge, was a lumbering green building. The raiders were our only obstacle between us and Greenetech. The only problem was that there was a large gap between the raiders and myself, so firing a revolver would be useless. Sunny was on another fucking planet when I pulled her to cover behind a building.

“What is it?” she smiled. I tore the rifle from her gloved hands, and peeked at the raiders. I hadn't handled a proper rifle in years, and I wasn't going to make a habit of it. Bringing the scope to my eyes I held my breath and found my target. What was it with raiders and strange hats? I was staring at someone firing at me whilst unironically wearing a box with eye holes. What great protection.

It didn't stop the bullet from going through their skull.

When one dropped, I moved into the next, who had made the smart decision to move around whilst shooting. Very inaccurate, but smart. It looked quite hilarious, having one raider wearing normal and sensible armour shoot at us, whilst another ran around topless wearing a plastic horse mask.

Who then tripped over.

It was **_hilarious_ ** that the raider that had fallen was safer than the now dead normal raider, who looked shocked when the blood poured between his eyes. Relaxing, I briskly walked over to the raider, humming along to the tune in my head.

“I was drinking in sunshine, when out of an orange coloured view.”

I aimed at the horse head.

“ **_Wham_ **.”

I kicked him.

“ **_Bam_ **.”

I fired.

“ **_Alacazam_ **.”

“I got a look of you.” Sunny finished for me, startling me.

“How'd you get there?” I yelled, taking a step away from the woman that stood extremely close to me. I heard a soft snap, and I turned to see a raider glaring at us from a walkway connecting two crumbling buildings on both sides of the road. Fuck.

An echoing shot rang in the unsettled air, and I took a step back. Looking down, I noticed a complete lack of wound. Turning to Sunny, I saw her arm was extended, and in her hands was my revolver, smoke trailing off it. I heard a heavy thump as the raider face-planted the ground, and I looked at Sunny, who was glassy eyed again. Mouth stretched from ear to ear, she ran her tongue over the length of my gun, which definitely creeped me out. This girl was constantly surprising and disgusting me simultaneously. I didn't even know that was possible!

When she was, done, she holstered my revolver for me- and I swear she heard her say “Finally” happily- whilst taking her rifle. How did she make everything awkwardly weird?

“Shall we continue?” Sunny asked. I was about to answer, when He showed up again. Twice in one day? It must have been **_fucking Christmas_ **.

“That was intense.” He remarked, His hand stroking His chin thoughtfully as we crossed the bridge.

“There's something that I recognise about this girl.” He added, peering at her face. I elected to ignore Him, as well as Sunny.

“We're here!” Sunny giggled, hugging me enthusiastically. A green building towered over us, blocking out the light from unassuming sun that just peaked over the smaller buildings. It was either dawn or dusk in this place, where'd the time in between go?

“You spend it brooding.” He told me, as I desperately tried to focus on the mission.

“What did the capacitor look like?” I asked, realising I had no idea where the capacitor could be, or what it's appearance was.

“We'll find out when we see it, I'm sure!” the naive girl laughed, opening the door to what was presumably the Greenetech building. It was the only **_green_ ** building still standing!

When we entered, we were shocked by the lack of people shooting at us. Aside from ruined furniture, overgrown plants, and the general sense of decay, the place was uninteresting and, in fact, quite ordinary.

“Hey,Grimm?” Sunny nudged me with her rifle.

“What?” I whispered, gun in hand. She jerked her head in the direction of some bodies, all dressed in military outfits. Some evening wore shades, though none of them were as classy as mine. Who even wore clothes like that? Walking up the stairs we encountered more bodies, some from laser burns, others from bullet wounds. Confusing deaths **_and_ ** mysterious victims.  The majority of them were lacking limbs, which were piled together strangely. Heads were literally held in hands. And that monstrous scene gave me a good idea as to who did this. Fucking hell. I didn't want to deal with two crazies, three including me.

More bodies were strewn about the various flights of stairs, as well as some mechanical parts. We wordlessly walked through the chaos, except that Sunny kept on laughing hysterically, and by the millionth flight of stairs, we found an elevator. Stepping into the elevator, I stood in someone's torso. Blood spurted out, so Sunny took it upon herself to jump on the corpse repeatedly as the elevator whirred painfully as it moved upwards. By the time the elevator opened, Sunny was covered in blood, and smiling, whilst I scowled at my blood speckled clothes. Sunny lapped happily at the blood on her hands, and giggled giddily. I was so glad that I wouldn't be with her much longer.

Without warning, the building rumbled violently, sending Sunny on her ass. I, however, remained upright- I did become unsteady but I was still standing which was the main thing. Offering Sunny my hand, I had all but confirmed who was causing so much chaos. She took my hand, and flung her arms around me in pure delight. In silence, we walked up two more flights of stairs, both more grueling than the last. Which was a pain, mainly because Sunny kept clinging to me. Upon entering what I hoped was the final room, I spotted my worst nightmare.

Joy.

Who was covered in blood.

With a severed head in her hand.

“ **_Nate!_ ** ” she screamed, dropping everything in her arms.

“No thanks.” I began to walk away from Sunny and Joy, but it was too late.

“I like hugs!” Sunny philosophically decreed as I was crushed between the insane women.

“I miss Piper.” I grumbled.

* * *

 

Sitting around a campfire, I reflected upon the awkward situation I was in. Joy was staring at me obsessively, and Sunny was making weird noises with the capacitor. I buried my face in my hands, and screamed hysterically. I wasn't having a good day, but it could have been worse. Joy could have started to go full psychopath on me, and Sunny could have started to act weird.

Sunny started to act weird.

She smashed the capacitor against my head, and made a series of beeping noises. “I'm detecting a lack of happiness!” she observed, as Joy began to speak.

“So Nate,” she whispered, “what do you think we're going to do after we find Shaun?” Ah, Shaun. Joy's kidnapped son. How did Piper even write that article? Joy must have mistaken her for her dead husband, so how in the world did she produce a good piece of writing?

“ **_We_ ** are doing nothing. **_I_ ** am going to leave this madness after I deliver this stupid capacitor to the Brotherhood of Steel, and then **_you_ ** are going to carry on doing whatever!” What I said did not register with Joy at all, who smiled sweetly.

“I know! I'm so excited to go home with you!” she replied, agreeing to something that was never said. Sunny noticed Joy's insanity, and frowned.

“Hey Grimm, where are you going to go then?” she asked, keeping an eye on the woman who stared at me. I hadn't decided on that, although I was certain that I was going to leave Boston behind. I'd had my fill of crazy, and I wanted to go somewhere nice and warm. Hell, the only thing that was keeping me in the Commonwealth was my shades! I shouldn't have given Piper them, if I hadn't, I would have sent Sunny on her merry way and buggered off to California. I didn't give a damn about Piper, but I needed someone to look after my sunglasses. **_They_ ** were the real leverage.

“Probably somewhere that isn't here.” I replied, poking at the flames with a twig. The city wasn't dark, far from it- the sun was shining away like the pain in the ass it was- but Sunny had insisted that we were to make a fire. I was tempted to light her on fire, but I hadn't saved her just to kill her.

I would kill her soon, judging by the way she rested her head on my shoulder, her pink hair flowing over my arm.

“I'll probably go with you.” she dreamily murmured, not noticing my revolver pressed against her leg. Just in case.

“I'd rather not, I've had enough of crazy. I've seen some shit, but I've met a crazy vaultie,” I pointed at Joy, “who thinks I'm her husband, I've met a reporter who has been a constant pain because of how ‘spunky’ she is, and now I've met you, someone who clearly does not know what personal space is! I've been shot at, nearly mauled to death, and someone thought I wasn't me because I said my name was Jangles the fucking Moon Monkey!” If I was out, I'd have been in New Reno, or Vault City. That was a chestnut worth cracking. Maybe the pip-boy would be worth something after all. But I would have rather been doing anything else other than sitting around a campfire in the middle of the day with a pink haired psychopath straight out of the comics, and a Southern vaultie that wore a pair of lensless glasses and had a tattered vault suit, who, to top it all off, thought I was her husband Nate, based off of no actual reason. It was official: I had reached my limit. Which was actually quite impressive, especially when I had met an assortment of crazy characters, some of whom not were not even human!

An awkward silence followed, though it did not deter Sunny from lounging on me. Joy nodded at me, high as a kite, and I wasn't sure she was on drugs. Slowly, Sunny began to laugh. At first, it was slow and high pitched, the usual “Sunny” laugh. As it continued, however, it became more manic and deeper, distorting from the childish voice to a more mature pitch. **_Oh_ ** , **_fuck_ **. Abruptly, she stopped, and stood up dropping the capacitor. Looking at me, she said something in a seductive, sultry, husky voice.

 

“See you around, lover.”

 

She walked off, and I knew that I should have shot her, but I was too shocked to do anything. Whilst Joy rambled away, about her perfect little vision- as if the last minute hadn't happened- He chuckled and looked off into the distance.

“So that's what it was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The crazy person emerges from the fiery pits of hell! Is that a good thing? Probably not! Well it's nearly Halloween, so get spooky I guess. Nothing says spooky than being dead inside! Or having a corpse hanging from your porch. The trick is to make it look like a prop.


	10. Victorious Suffering

_Ever so carefully, she cut into my flesh. Streams of blood poured from the wounds, and I knew the pain wouldn't stop there. Looking deep into my eyes, she smiled softly, and whispered to me._

_“I love you.”_

_Then I_ screamed.

 

* * *

 

My life was simple. Wake up. Shoot something. Eat something. Complain about the lack of nuka cola.

Simple.

That had changed over the few weeks I had been in the Commonwealth. Now, my life was running around doing errands for people I couldn't care less about. Things got **_even better_ ** when I met the craziest people in my life. The peak, however, was when the penny dropped and I realised that I was fucked.

Piper would die first, followed by Joy, and if I was unlucky, maybe Hancock. They were in real danger, and I brought it on them. I wasn't feeling guilty, just absolutely terrified out of my skin, as if hordes of deathclaws were close behind. Using that inspiration, or fear of death, I ran irrepressibly. Joy, the nuisance, followed me, and had she not done so, I would have gotten lost. My mind was a hurricane, and it directed me towards a random direction. Thankfully, Joy was there to guide me to the airport.

“Hold on sugar!” she called after me, as I panicked internally.

“Can't stop. Need. Shades.” I breathed, as Joy tugged my shoulders and pointed me down the road. Two days left, and I had wanted the time limit to be shorter. No sense of urgency, had it not been for the worst moment of my life. At least for a few years. Maybe months?

No, I wasn't in the mood for joking.

My mind flashed back to the smiles, the laughs, the happiness, the love. And the pain. Oh, especially the pain. That was the reason why I coveted my glasses so much: to hide the pain. Those shades were **_my_ ** shades, and nothing could replace them.

Flecks of rain dropped down, and the clouds huddled together tighter, as if they sensed my emotions. Soon, I was drenched, and I became sluggish, my actions were heavy and drawn out. Slowing to a stop, I looked up at the sky and grinned. **_This wasn't happening_ **. It couldn't have been happening. It was all just a dream, and I'd wake up in some backwater bar.

I didn't wake up.

I knew that it was real. I was stuck in a hell that I couldn't get out of and I was spiralling into a darkness I'd never escape. I was fooling myself by thinking I could run away. Falling to my knees, a silent scream built up in my throat, threatening to be unleashed. My grin stretched further until my face ached. My mind hadn't even comprehended what I was doing. Warm, tender hands, tugged at my arms, and I instinctively thrashed around. Panicking, I ridiculously squirmed as the grip on me grew tighter. **_I was going to be tortured_ ** . **_I was going to die_ **. Then, I was calm. Letting my attacker help me up, I distanced myself from my emotions. When I was steady, I threw my fist into their face, and pulled out my revolver. I realised that Joy was on the floor, her hair a mess and blood trickling from her lip. She looked at me with horror as I pointed my revolver at her.

“It would be so easy.” I mumbled.

“Nate, sweetie, what are you doing?” the vaultie asked, confusing me with her husband again.

All I had to do was pull the trigger.

Joy would be dead, then I would focus on killing the others. Nobody would bother me after that. I pictured draining the life out of Piper, and beating Hancock to death. Even poor, innocent Nat would die, and I imagined her final screams to be truly pathetic.

**_All I had to do was pull the damn trigger._ **

“My name is Grimm. Not Nate. Nate is dead.” I murmured coldly, savouring the moment as Joy placed her hands on her head.

“No, you're Nate.” she whispered, unsure of herself. Tears mixed with the rain dripping down her face, and the childlike naivety faded slowly.

“Nate. Is. **_Dead_ ** .” I repeated, my voice harsh and venomous. Joy’s beautiful features became ugly and full of hatred, as she lunged towards me. Knocking me off my feet, she wrapped her hands around my throat and pressed down. She sobbed violently, and my vision was failing. **_I was going to die_ ** . **_I was dying_ **. Smiling, I gasped for air.

“Kill me.” I begged, my face etched in eternal happiness. What a change of events. First, I was determined to leave, until it had dawned on me that I wouldn't be able to without having to cut ties. So I came to the conclusion that I'd have to kill everyone who I met. Then I thought I'd save the effort by dying outright.

In short, the last few minutes had proven to be a bit shit.

Combined with my impending death, and the certain flashbacks that were going to occur during my final moments, I was not having a good time. Oh, well, it was going to be over soon.

As the darkness closed around me, I let out a strangled “cheers” in thanks.

 

* * *

 

 

_My leg snapped and I howled in pain._

_“You could have avoided this.” she stated, as she pressed the barrel of the gun against the broken leg. How could she do this? My screams increased when a bullet entered my leg._

_“Kill me.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Gasping, I leapt up from the bed I was in.  I was in a bed?!

“Shit!” I exclaimed. I wasn't dead! In fact, I felt healthy! The room I was in was clinical, metallic, and freezing. Modern medical equipment aligned the claustrophobic space, and the floor was amazingly clean. I was clad in nothing more than a thin gown, and as I went to stand up, it became apparent that one of my legs was cuffed to the bed. On the nightstand beside me were my shades, so it wasn't all bad.

“Wait a second…” I put my shades on, and looked around. Cuffed to a bed, clean room, and my shades. It had Brotherhood written all over it. Nothing to do with the Brotherhood flag that was opposite me. Knowing the tin cans, I would be alone with my thoughts for a while. Which wasn't the best idea.

“That was fun!” He laughed, lounging on the bed next to mine.

“No, not really. I nearly killed Joy and myself in the space of a minute.”

“Technically, Joy nearly killed you.” He got off the bed and looked out of the door.

“You had something to do with that didn't you?” I chewed the bottom of my lip. I wasn't usually evilly violent, only violent in the way a dick would be. That was His area of expertise. One might have assumed that He was growing stronger. One might shove one's opinion up one's ass. I was in charge, and He would never be.

“I cannot see what is outside this room.” He pointed out to the great beyond and laughed. “And you are falling apart. Why do you think I'm being a bit more talkative?”

“Because I think you're mildly funny.”

“No. You can't just split all of the bad qualities into a separate identity. That's what you call an unhealthy coping mechanism.”

“When did you become such an expert on anything?” I groaned, wincing at my unkempt beginnings of a beard.

“Since you started to think it.” I chose to ignore Him, and started to sing.

“Maybe you'll think of me.”

I was thinking about nuka cola.

“When you are all alone.”

I was pretty lonely.

“Maybe the one who is waiting for you.”

Perhaps Piper was waiting for me.

Making a deflating noise, I longed for a radio, or another voice to keep me company.

“Don't stop on my account.” Not that voice. I watched as the Brotherhood knight I knew as Carl promptly settled on a nearby chair. Upon closer inspection, my visitor looked unemotional, with her mud brown hair tied up in a no-nonsense bun, and her freckled face fixed in a lifeless look.

“How long were you listening?” I asked. How could this woman look so dead? Discipline, most likely. Even in the NCR, people still had some emotion, usually greed and hatred. **_Any_ ** emotion was better than looking like Carl.

“Long enough. Where'd you learn to sing?” Informal interrogation always began with casual questions. She might not have been interrogating me, but when dealing with the Brotherhood, paranoia was my best friend. I could bullshit my way through everything, though I was going to have a lot more fun being truthful. When was the last time I was truthful? Not since Piper asked me that shitty question.

“Slavery. Couldn't do much, so I tried to stay sane by singing. Didn't work, I'm still a crazy bastard.” Those were the days. Not good days, although I learnt how to survive. I survived to live through even worse days, which made me question why I bothered to persevere in the first place! On the bright side, I had my shades.

“Why am I in cuffs anyway?” I wiggled my leg with effort to prove my point.

“We had to assess whether or not you were a threat to us.” Carl stood up stiffly, and woodenly marched over to me.

“And am I a threat?”

Carl stood over me and I thought I saw a pinch of emotion flicker on her plain face.

“I don't know. When we met, you were erratic, explosive and hostile. I then deduced you make no sense, and have no logical reason for anything.” All I heard was “ **_blah blah blah, something something erratic_ **.”, as she was extremely boring. It was as if the nonexistent God decided to make the most boring person in existence, but got bored doing it!

My mind was focused solely on getting out of the bed, and walking in the opposite direction to the Brotherhood. Rubbing my face, I made a garbled noise and looked at Carl.

“So when can I leave?”

“You can leave the Prydwen after I determine you are medically fit.” said a male voice, belonging to a man holding a clipboard. If he was the doctor, I was Jangles the Moon Monkey.

“I'm Knight-Captain Cade, I nursed you back to health. You are extremely lucky to be alive.”

So I **_was_ ** Jangles.

I wasn't shocked by what the doctor said, just slightly bewildered.

“I was only unconscious for a little while.” I told him, puzzled by his need to say I was lucky. That line was a doctor’s favourite thing to say.

“That was the least of your worries. You had multiple untreated wounds, fractures in bones, bullets left in your body. Not to mention exhaustion, and I'm worried about how this has affected your mental state.” Looking down my gown, I saw what he meant. Multiple stitches crisscrossed my chest, and the leg I had injured days ago when I was hunting for comics had another fresh bandage applied to it.

“I'm fine though!” I protested, not feeling any pain.

“I'll be the judge of that.” Cade huffed. He waved Carl away, and walked up to me, tapping a pen against his clipboard.

“I'm going to need to do a psychiatric evaluation before anything else.” Cade explained. **_Another one_ ** ? Because mental health was **_so_ ** important in a land full of craziness.

“Fire away.” It wasn't like I had anyway else to be. Leaning back into my bed, I let the questions commence.

 

* * *

 

 

_She lovingly stroked my cheek, whilst resting her head against mine._

_“You're finally mine.”  she breathed, as I held back a sob. Her smile stretching further, she placed my revolver against my head._

_“Now, where were we?”_

 

* * *

 

 

“Have you ever had any relations with any species not considered human?” Did aliens count?

“No.” I yawned, trying to stay awake.

“Have you ever been under a severe amount of stress?”

“Give me examples.”

“Torture, abuse-”

“Would slavery count?” For some reason I was nostalgic, perhaps due to the cuffs. My response amazed Cade, who nodded wisely.

“Can you elaborate on your time during slavery?”

“Fucking awful.” That didn't please him.

“Other than that?”

“Look, what help are you going to be? I was a slave for seven years, and I was tossed around from group to group. I went through hell, but I got through it. What's more to say?”

“Blocking emotions can lead to adverse effects.” Cade warned.

“You don't have to tell me. There's no point to this conversation, because I'm leaving as soon as possible.” I grunted in frustration as I tried to stand up, the cuffs restricting me severely. Cade put up a hand to stop me, and walked over to the other side of the room.

“You're in no shape to travel. You are to stay under the supervision of Knight Doe, and you will not leave until she and I approve it.”

“Why are you helping me anyway, I'm just another wastelander.” Cade looked at me, and wrote more notes on his clipboard.

“Thank your friends for that. The woman who brought you in exchanged something of value for us to help you, and as an apology for the embarrassing encounter with Knight Doe the other day.” I assumed that Doe was the boring woman.

“What's her deal anyway?” I inquired. What made her tick? A dumb question to ask- I blamed Piper- and I had the feeling that I was going to ask worse questions in the future.

“Knight Doe is……dedicated, and aspires to become a Paladin, and her dedication to her duty often alienates others. That's all I'll say because I don't wish to be a gossip.” Cade blushed slightly, mortified at that **_riveting_ ** piece of information.

“Whatever. So how long am I going to stay here then?” Two weeks was the longest amount of time I could sit and do nothing. I was a wanderer, and staying in a bed wasn't my idea of fun. Then again, my idea of fun wasn't considered fun by others.

“I'm thinking a month, to let your body heal.” Fantastic. For the next month, I was to sit in the same bed, little more than a prisoner, held captive by a group that most likely hated me. There was a lot of bad blood between the NCR and the Brotherhood. Quite a lot of which had been shed over the sands of the West.

“So Doe will be my warden.”

“Not just her.” The ominous answer was followed by a swift knocking on metal. A smiling head poked out from the doorway, and to my dismay, it was Joy. Shyly, she crept into the room, donning a black Brotherhood uniform. She looked like she was trying to impress someone, with her usually messy hair styled into curls. The makeup definitely made it look like she was going out on a prewar outing rather than being holed up in a floating metal deathtrap. I predicted that I was about to be mistaken for Nate, and maybe murdered.

“Hey Grimm.” Just as expect-

She said Grimm.

“Hey Joy.” I replied contently, elated at the sanity she was exhibiting. With as much charm as a bighorner, Joy rushed over to me and shoved my head against her.

“I'm so, so, so, so, so, so, so, **_so_ ** sorry!” she repeated, crushing my head. I winced, and looked in horror as I noticed Cade had left me with Joy.

“Please stop.” I gargled, prying myself away from the queen of crazy.

“Sorry Grimm.” she apologised, releasing me and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“You remember my name.” I noted, adjusting my shades. Joy giggled, and patted my head.

“Of course I remember, sugar! You saved me!” I was patted on the head again, and was suddenly pushed back against the bed. Pressing her hand against my chest, Joy closed the gap between us and opened her mouth. A second later, she corrected herself, and blushed.

“Sorry about that, I got a little carried away.” A little?!

Pretending that didn't happen, I shrugged and looked away.

“I never saved you.”

“Yes you did, when we first met. You helped me when I stabbed myself.”

“And mistook me for your husband.” The blush on Joy's face became more prominent.

“I don't anymore! Because you're better. **_Way better_ ** _._ Anyway, I got to return the favour, and now we can spend time together!” I was looking forward to that. Not. “How'd you even get the Brotherhood to help me?” What did a vaultie have to offer the most technologically advanced faction in the wasteland besides the Enclave? Certainly not caps.

“You know how you found me in the Greenetech building?” I nodded. “Well I found a courser chip, which I gave to the Brotherhood in exchange for your life. Although, Elder Maxson now wants me to help him with other things, but it's better than sitting in Sanctuary! Place was starting to smell.” That triggered the memory of the dismembered heads, making me feel queasy.

“But you owe me for the pip-boy though. You never paid me for it.” Bewildered, I made a series of confused noises, and frowned.

“You told Hancock that it was mine!” I argued. Joy tutted, and patted my head for the third time. That was getting agitating.

“I also mistook the kindest person ever for my abusive dead husband. So I haven't been thinking clearly.”

“What do you wa-”

Like an unstoppable force, Piper burst in, her dumb hat in her hand, ready to kill me.

“Stop. Doing. This!” she yelled, swatting me with the hat, ignoring my complaints. She was referring to my constant injuries, at least, that's what I assumed. Piper never gave me any indication otherwise, so I accepted the beating with mild annoyance.

“I'm fine,” I assured her, “although it was a wasted trip. So Joy, how am I paying you?” Joy clapped her hands eagerly.

“Grimm, we're going on a date!” Before I had time to address the situation, Piper spoke up.

“Why was it a waste of time?” she asked, placing her cap firmly on her head. Quietly, I chuckled and looked at the two women in front of me.

“You won't believe this, but you know the pink haired girl?”

“Yes.” they said in unison.

“Well.” I licked my dry lips, pausing to create tension.

 

“She's my wife!”

 

* * *

 

 

_Humming, she threw on her shirt, and kissed my forehead, leaving me bare and exposed to the bitter, cold, void. I was powerless, and she knew it. Nobody would have suspected what she had done, but I would never forget. Leaning down, she forced me to look her in the eyes._

_“What's my name?” she hissed, gripping my jaw tightly. With great effort, and pain surging through every inch of my body, I answered._

_“Victoria.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not the best at writing, so I'd check out [Synth](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10457094/chapters/23081178) and [Sanctuary](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7238410/chapters/16433362). The writing is amazing, and if you haven't already read these, do it. Or continue with this pile of flaming insanity as it descends into a REALLY dark place, I know what I'd choose (reading Synth and Sanctuary).


	11. Date night on the Prydwen

Being a “guest” with the Brotherhood wasn't a breeze. Sure, all I did in the first week was sleep in the bed I was cuffed to and fend off Piper's questions, as well as Joy's schemes, but it was difficult sleeping. Ever since my wife- who was **_supposed_ ** to be dead- showed up, I suffered from recurring nightmares, all about the time we spent together. Some of the scars from those interactions were still healing.

I didn't tell Piper this, nor did I intend to. The only person who knew was Cade, and that was only from forced daily therapy sessions. They weren't called therapy sessions, but I knew that's what they were. The attention and “help” I received was more than the NCR ever gave to anybody, which made me question what Joy had given the tin cans. She had described it as a courser chip, although that meant nothing to me. I didn't find any of the help given helpful, only a distraction from the tedium of sitting in a bed. I played along though, telling Cade mostly bullshit mixed with half truths. He knew about my time during the NCR, but nothing of my time as a slave. Even **_I_ ** didn't want to think about my own experiences.

On the eighth day of my month long recovery, Piper entered my cosy corner of hell. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, I was asked the same question that I had found agitating.

“Do you want to talk about it now?” I shook my head and scratched my beginnings of a pitiful beard.

“Not on your life Piper, I'll tell you when it affects you.” I murmured.

“I can help you.” she responded, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“I know you want to help, and I appreciate it, but you have to understand, **_she isn't normal_ **. Why do you think I wear these shades?” Piper hadn't met her, so she didn't know the horror behind the pretty words and promises. Neither did I until it was too late.

“If she's dangerous, you'll need all the help you can get.” That old line. “You'll need all the help you can get” was the worst advice ever given. There was never strength in numbers, because they all died in the end.

“Have you heard of the Crimson Caravan?” I asked, taking off my shades and cleaning them with my gown sleeve.

“No, what does this have to do with anything?”  Turning my scarred face to the reporter, I began to fidget uncomfortably.

“They're a big player out West, but that's not the point. The Vegas branch had the same mentality you did. Killing her meant protecting the loss of customers, so I, along with mercenaries sent by the Caravan, went to deal with her. I was the only survivor.” The mercs weren't even cheap. All of them knew how to hold a gun, and they had expensive equipment. Miniguns, grenade launchers, anything military grade was used by the mercs. It only made their deaths all the more humiliating. So what could a reporter with a 10mm do?

“Wait, why'd you go to kill your own wife? What did she do?” Piper questioned, even less satisfied with the situation due to my answers. Putting on my trusty shades, I clicked my tongue thoughtfully.

“Hopefully you won't have to find out. As soon as I'm fit to walk, I'll be out of your hair so nobody gets hurt.” Piper was visibly agitated, and groaned angrily.

“Dammit Grimm, do you ever look after yourself?”

“Well I'm not an alcoholic anymore!” I joked, laughing darkly at my joke. The reporter physically punched me square in the face, knocking my glasses onto the floor.

“This isn't funny! You're such a jackass! But if you want to die, go ahead! Nobody will miss you anyway!” That escalated quickly.

“What's your problem?” I wasn't going to raise my voice, it'd provoke Piper even more.

“My problem is that you don't look after yourself, and you could die at any point!”

“That's the same with anybody, what makes me so special?” Piper was an enigma. She was concerned about me, a fucking wastelander, for no reason. We hadn't spent much time together to form any attachment, and my personality left something to be desired, so why was she this upset? Piper looked at the floor, her cap shielding her eyes. All I could see of her face was her mouth, which was quivering, struggling to remain straight.

“Forget I said anything.” And with that, she rushed out of the room. Gingerly running shaking fingers over where I was hit, I sighed.

“What's her problem?”

 

* * *

 

 

The day after Piper hit me, I was told by Knight Doe that she had left. “Personal business” was the reason, and I knew that Piper was hurt. By what, I didn't know. I didn't care either, her reasoning was her own. I couldn't argue with that. On the bright side, I was given a pack of cards to pass the time. Along with the cards, and my thoughts, the second week passed quickly, and nothing interesting happened until I was visited by my favourite demon within my head.

“What game do you want to play?” I mumbled as I dealt the cards. He sat cross-legged on the other end of the bed, twiddling His thumbs.

“You don't even know how to play cards.” He said, His expression twisted into a grumpy scowl.

“Well it doesn't hurt to try anyway.” I pointed out, finally finished dealing. He huffed, and tried to swipe at his cards.

“I can't touch anything.” He reminded me.

“Oh yeah, I forgot.” I took back the cards, and started shuffling randomly. Getting off the bed, He soundlessly clapped his hands together.

“So, let's talk about Victoria!” He proclaimed.

“Nope, I don't want to.” There were too many names to remember. Victoria or Sunny- whatever she was called nowadays- Piper, Joy, and Doe. Not to mention other names like Hancock and Nat.

“Who are you talking to?” Doe walked in, bland as ever.

“Myself. Only real decent conversation in this tub.” I sneered, not liking the passive aggressive boring aura Doe emanated.

“I was ordered to release you, which I for one, disagree with.” I was sensing a rant about how I was irresponsible, dangerous, **_blah blah blah_ **.

“Can we skip the part where you list why you don't like me, and get to the bit where I'm not stuck in this bed.” Doe complied, producing a key from her sleeve. Weird place to put a key, but I suspected it was just for effect. When I was free, I stretched my legs, grateful that I could move again.

“Your presence is requested by the Elder.” she curtly grunted. That wasn't a good sign, meeting higher ranking officials never was. The outcome was likely to be me being indebted to the Brotherhood for life, which didn't sound fun. It was a fancy term for conscription.

“I don't have any clothes though.” I tugged at my faded gown, unimpressed. Doe went  behind a curtain, returning a few moments later with my trusty duster coat, shirt and jeans, along with other essentials.

“Don't try to escape, you'll be shot if you do.” Doe threw the bundle of clothes at me, looking bemused. The only emotions that woman knew were misery and boredom. I would have paid good money to see her smile. As the knight left me to change, she looked at me one final time, her face expressionless.

“One last thing.” I waited for what she was going to say next. “Your friend should have finished the job.” I cackled heartily, standing up to my full height.

“Next time, I'll make sure she does.” I assured her. When I was alone, I proceeded to change into my usual clothes. I reflected for a moment on how I got the ranger coat, before shaking my head wistfully.

“Weirdest bet ever.” I murmured, recalling that night. Throwing on the rest of my clothes, I checked a small mirror, noticing my rugged face. The scar lining my left eye was more prominent than usual, and upon lifting my shades and opening my eyes, my ruined eye was looking more glass-like than usual. My face was sunken and deathly pale, hidden by dark, prickly stubble. A generic face, nothing handsome about it. Another nobody, caught up in the business of important people. I knew that I shouldn't have been amongst a vault dweller and the Brotherhood of Steel, yet there I was, standing in the bowels of a Brotherhood war machine, going to see some Brotherhood Elder, and being hounded by a vaultie for a “date”. Whatever that was. It sounded sinister. The sooner I left the better. I didn't want to be tangled up in philosophies, ideologies and the rest of the shitty reasoning behind selfish actions. Everyone acted selfishly, even Piper the incredulous reporter was selfish. The trick was working out how. The Brotherhood’s intentions were fairly obvious. Seize technology and control the populace under the guise of protection from themselves, without addressing any problems regular people faced. The stereotypical faction in the wastes. Joy's intentions were also easy to work out: all she wanted to do was find her son. And maybe do a “date”.

“Seriously.” I fiddled with my hair a little. “What the hell is a date?”

More importantly, where the hell was the Elder?

After being directed down a set of dumb ladders, I was standing in a spacious room, which looked like an observation deck. At least, that's what I was told when I asked for directions. Beside me was Joy, looking bashful, and Doe, who stared at me with hateful boredom. In front of me was a bloke around the same age as me, hiding his youth with a bushy beard. Between the way everyone paid attention to him, and the glorious duster that nestled neatly on his burly shoulders, I made the wild assumption that he was in charge. If he was in charge, I'd have to learn his name. Among the half a dozen other people in the room. I was annoyed that I had to remember names. Doe? Joy? I was putting a stop to it.   
"Let's get this straight." I started, staring at the Elder. "I don't want to know anyone's name! Everyone here is called Peter, and that's final!" I was about to be branded a heretic, although it wasn't the Brotherhood style.   
"One last thing." Everyone looked at me. "Is anyone here actually called Peter?" A happy looking bloke raised his hand gleefully, before resuming his stony faced facade. Rubbing my hands together excitedly, I stood beside Peter number one. Grinning idiotically, I waved my hands for the Elder to start.

“ Right then.” He hadn't expected that. “I'd like the room cleared please.” I watched mournfully as Peter number one waddled sadly out of the room. Once the Peters had left, all that remained was the Elder, Doe, Joy and myself. The Elder squeezed the bridge of his nose and made a noise akin to that of a dying super mutant.

“Do you know why you're here?” he growled to nobody in particular.

“Nope.”

“No, silly.”

“No sir!”

All the while, He was standing behind the Elder, poking His fingers above the latter's head.

“He's a deathclaw now!” He wisely added. Now was not the time for His insanity. It didn't stop him from whistling and occasionally glancing out of the window.

“I asked you a question.” I was brought back to reality when the Elder scowled at me, expecting me to answer whatever question I had been asked.

“Could you repeat yourself please?”

“What provoked you to interfere with Brotherhood business?” Wait, was there meant to be an answer? Aside from the fact that “Sunny” looked ridiculous and pitiful, and reminded me of my wife- who actually turned out to be her- I had no ulterior motive.

“I don't know, I just thought it'd be funny to piss you off.” I answered, trying not to laugh as He mimicked the posture of the Elder.

“You could have made an enemy or been shot on sight by the Brotherhood, but you did so because it was **_funny_ **?” Without blinking or losing my smile, I nodded.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have you thrown off right now.” The Elder glared at me, angry at the NCR dick (me) standing awkwardly in front of him. Tapping my foot bored, I waved my hands around, ready to say “I don't fucking know”, when Joy spoke up.

“Because, sugar, we had a deal. You wouldn't want people to think that the great honourable Arthur Maxson was a liar?” That broke the spirit of the Elder, whose name was **_Peter_ ** and not whatever Joy said. Broken, he pointed a finger at Doe.

“I can't do anything to you two, but **_you_ ** Knight Doe, humiliated the Brotherhood by failing to deal with this idiot,” he pointed at me, “so as a result of this, I'm wasting medical supplies in exchange for something that we could have retrieved had you cleared the site you were assigned to instead of chasing after a thief.” Doe looked flustered for a moment, then carried on looking dead inside.

“I accept full responsibility for my actions, sir!” Kissass. I didn't mean to say it out loud, yet I did.

“Grimm, honey, behave.” Joy warned me, nudging me playfully. Because a crazy person was going to stop another crazy person. Looking like she wanted to kill me, Doe made a low pitched rumbling, possibly mulling over how to kill me. She should have aimed for the head.

“Enough!” the Elder barked, his words so fierce they made Doe shudder slightly. Fear was a powerful emotion, and it was not a fanciful idea to think that Doe was afraid of the Elder. Through all the guesses, I had no idea what the hell that inhuman shell thought.

“She probably wants to kill you and bring your lifeless corpse back to her beloved Elder.” He proposed, taking long strides around the deck. What a positive note.

“Do you think she likes you? I'm getting the feeling that she doesn't adore us, which is a great change, for once.” The Elder kept on babbling, waving his arms around, losing all composure. The Elder’s voice was muffled, as I was solely focused on Him.

“I mean, what does anyone see in you? It could just be purely coincidental that you met the most insane people. Or it could be a subtle hint from life telling you something. ” A great message from life itself? Probably telling me to fuck off. I allowed myself to be humoured by His thoughts.

“Life is telling you to go back to the good old days, where we killed everyone. Of course, the family wouldn't be proud. Though their final words weren't ‘don't become evil’ so I doubt they'd care!” I was snapped back to reality when I found myself standing being yanked away from the room by Joy. I missed whatever the Elder said- a miracle in itself- and I was missing whatever Joy was rambling about.

“And then I realised that we hadn't bonded so I'm going to need you to go back to your little bed and wait a minute or two.” I was so amazing to catch at least **_half_ ** of that conversation. Stopping, I scratched my head and tugging slightly on Joy's extraordinarily strong arm.

“What are we talking about again?” I was given a sly look and a sense of dread.

There was something shadowy about Joy's intentions.

Something bad was going to happen.

 

* * *

 

 

I had been tricked.

“There's comics down here!” Joy told me, crazy as per normal, as she led me down more metallic stairs. I didn't have the sense to think why I had to wait for this, or why Joy didn't bring me the comics to me. Honestly, I was just bored so I went along with it. Doubts were raised when I entered a dingy cargo bay crammed with boxes and absent of any form of life. Those doubts were amplified when I laid eyes on a circular table, upon which flowers, lit candles and plates were placed neatly.

“What type of torture is this?” I turned to Joy who had boxes of cram bundled in her arms. Where'd those come from?

“It's called a date, sugar. Don't you have dates in the wasteland?” Dates made even less sense. Tricking someone into eating food? Was it a romantic gesture or a technique to lull me into a false sense of security? I'd read lots on Old World etiquette, but not once did a “date” pop up in any book in the context Joy used it in.

“No, we just shoot each other and get fucked up in the wasteland.” I said bluntly, sitting down on one of the chairs surrounding the table.

“When was the last time you did anything romantic with anybody?”

“Recently.”

“When?”

I raised an eyebrow and gave in.

“Okay, never. Still, this date isn't romantic.” Confident, I watched as Joy grabbed a match and struck it against her boot. Once lit, she hovered the match over the candle, lighting them. Sneakily, she looked at me and winked.

“The point of a date is to be romantic.” she giggled. Taking off my shades, I groaned.

“I appreciate the gesture, Joy.” I began. Struggling to find a way to be nice to the psychopath, I decided to make it up as I went along. “I appreciate it, but don't you think this is weird?” Joy tilted her head, creasing her face subtly.

“What do you mean?”

What I meant is that I didn't know her, she was still getting over the death of her husband and the kidnapping of her son, and most importantly: I didn't want to know her. I told her as much, save the last point. Joy was nice, but being mistaken for a dead person and walking into a room full of decomposing heads didn't exactly sell herself. Crestfallen, Joy nodded.

“I guess so.” Beautiful normality! “It's not going to stop me from trying.” **_So close_ **. Maybe it was impossible for Joy to be sane, though it was also equally as impossible for me to be sane. I was the bitter asshole, and Joy was the unstable lunatic.

“Fine. Whatever. Just know that this for me is just two people hanging out. No romance. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Got it?”

“Got it, sugar.” Joy responded, winking at me again. She didn't get it. Typical. Handing me an opened tin of cram, with a spoon already wedged in it, Joy eyed me expectantly.

“What?” I asked, shoving cram in my mouth.

“Nothing, but this is your favourite stuff right?” She poked the cram, and then slid a bottle of nuka cola across the table. I saw what was happening.

“You asked Piper didn't you?”

“Maybe, I barely got anything from her. She's been a very grouchy girl since that interview.”

“Tell me about it, she cried a few times and I barely know her!” I exclaimed, raising my spoon in the air.

“She's sensitive.” Joy shrugged, swigging her cola.

“How'd the interview go anyway?” I looked at my bottle of nuka cola. Was I going to finish it for once before some disaster distracted me again? I wasn't going to risk it. Chugging my drink hurriedly, I kept an ear out for what Joy was saying.

“It was okay. Reading it is better than asking me about it.” I wiped away my mouth with my sleeve and slammed down the empty bottle ecstatically. The first damned drink I had finished that wasn't water!

“Still, there might be a reason Piper's acting weird. She might have mentioned it to you during the interview. Piper isn't exactly careful with what she says.” The girl had a problem with hiding things. That led to her crying in front of me.

“Nothin’ outta the ordinary. We had a few drinks, she got drunk and started talking about her family. Then she fell over and started laughing.”

“Why'd she talk about her fam-”

“And I slept with her.” If I'd had any nuka cola left I would have spat it out. Slamming my face into the table repeatedly, I tried to contain the pure frustration brewing inside me.

“In my defence I thought she was Nate.” That made it totally justifiable.

“How did you mista- never mind, I'm not even going to open that can of worms.” I groaned. That was going to be a repressed memory. “So what do you actually do on a ‘date’?” I didn't want to process what Joy had said.

“Well, we both talk about ourselves and what we have in common. So Grimm, tell me a little bit about yourself.” Sharing. Just what I needed.

“I like molerats, especially ones wearing hats, comics, and telling stories that may or may not be true.” Those molerats never got old. Maybe Steven changed his hat for once. Bowler hats didn't suit him. A top hat, on the other hand, made him look like a gentleman. A molerat gentleman.

“That's nice, molerats taste good, but I've never seen one wear a hat before.” Molerats didn't taste nice! They were cute, with their wrinkled skin and abnormally large teeth. Not to mention they could tap dance! How cute was that?!

“You should, I once met a whole molerat mafia. Their leader was some gigantic, and I mean bloody massive, molerat going by the name of Steven.” That was how I started most of my stories. “Turns out I was trespassing on their territory, so they took me captive and had me find a powerful artifact.” That part wasn't true, but Joy wouldn't have heard a decent story in a while. Something happy would help. So I spun up a tale about hunting down a globe that allowed molerats to use their thumbs. Along the way I supposedly met a rival molerat faction and a cult worshipping a tree person. The climax involved a standoff between me and a thousand molerats. Of course, I won, and by the tune I had finished, Joy was gasping for air, her high pitched laugh threatening to draw attention.

“There is no way,” Joy wheezed, “that you did all of that!” I didn't, but I pretended to be horrified at such an accusation.

“I did!” I protested.

“So you fought a molerat riding a deathclaw?” I didn't, although I nodded my head confidently.

“Yes. I wouldn't have included it otherwise.”

“Well I did kill a deathclaw when I first woke up, so I guess you could have killed one that had a molerat on it.” Deathclaw variety differed from Boston to Washington. From what I heard, the ones from the Commonwealth were more resilient than their western cousins. Although, not many people travelled east and lived to tell about it. All of my info about Boston came from someone who had lived there and wanted a challenge. He died a few hours later due to his overconfidence. His last words were “oh shit, that's one big lizard!” before he was skewered.

“So tell me about yourself, I've done enough talking.” I really hadn't done enough talking, but it was rude to not let Joy speak. I realised that I was going out of my way to be nice.

“I'm not interesting, I'm an old world gal.” she mumbled, staring into her cram.

“Come on, you know stuff I'll never know! You've seen cars move, hell you probably drove them! You had more than ten songs playing on the radio, and you could make food! I have no idea what a brownie is, but you might have made them!”

“You're really interested in the dull things aren't you?”

“In the wasteland, it isn't dull. I'd kill to eat fresh, hot, food, and to have another song on the radio to sing to.” I smiled sincerely, surprised that I wasn't talking complete shit to a stranger. As long as it wasn't too personal, I didn't mind sharing. I **_really_ ** wanted to eat something that had flavour.

“You're strange, Grimm.” chuckled Joy.

“How so?” I asked, knowing full well that I wasn't exactly normal.

“For starters, you like random things, and you tell weird stories. Piper mentioned something about you being an alien?” I remembered that conversation. Piper had forced me to stay in Diamond City, and I just rambled crazily. Good times.

“Yeah, she thinks I'm strange too. You're stranger for wanting a date.” I insisted, waving my spoon in her direction.

“Well, you are the only person who I've spent more than a few hours with, so I'm clinging to you.”

“I don't have a choice in the matter do I?” The answer was going to be “no”, I suspected that much, but even I had to admit that I wasn't having a bad time. Maybe Joy wasn't as deranged as I thought she was. Then again, I couldn't dispute the fact that she most likely killed the people whose heads were displayed in her house. This was confusing. Was I supposed to dislike her or tolerate her?

“No. I haven't made up my mind about you, so the best thing to do is try to spend as much time with you as possible!” How sweet, I'd actually made a friend.

“Aren't your duties to the Brotherhood going to affect that?”

“Maybe, I haven't worked it out yet. All I know is that you are the only person who maybe cares whether I live or die. Seeing as I'm still getting used to living here, it means a lot.” For once, I felt content. Being trusted was…..nice, to say the least. That night, I didn't worry at all, I was only focusing on swapping stories with my new friend. She might have wanted more, but I was perfectly happy talking. Our conversation carried on for hours, carrying on through the night and into the small hours of the morning. Having a friend was nice, even if she was an enigma. I didn't mind. I didn't think she minded either. We were just two crazy people talking about crazy things.

I couldn't have asked for more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you get when you have twelve melons and five pineapples each costing five dollars? A problem. You have a problem. Man, trying to write fluff is weird, who could possibly write happy things? Someone who can write, that's for sure. Which explains a lot about the fact that I write lots of angst.


	12. I can't see where you're coming from....

Two more weeks, I told myself. I had to last that long before I was able to leave the Prydwen. The daily talks with Cade went by slowly, but I had Joy to talk to most of the time, so it wasn't that bad. She didn't seem so psychotic, merely playful and lonely, which led me to believe that she also talked to Cade. I had been kicked out of the clinic, and I was given a regular bed with the Brotherhood initiates instead. Everybody eyed me with apprehension and distrust, and continued to do so throughout the time I was there, so by the third week, I spent my nights in the tiny cargo bay where Joy took me on our “date”.

In fact, the only one who had been nice to me was some man trapped behind a cage. He was the requisitions officer, at least I gathered as much, and had been kind enough to give me a working radio. Turns out radios could work a few hundred feet up in the air. The officer, whom I named Peter, explained to me that there were certain important officers on board.

Aside from himself, Cade and some other unimportant people with unimportant names were important to the ship running smoothly. **_And_ ** the Elder- whose only interesting part about him was his beard. My negative opinion towards the Brotherhood hadn't been altered during my stay, yet people like Peter did dispel the assumption that everyone in the Brotherhood was an unfeeling dick. An excellent example of an unfeeling dick would be Doe, the patron saint of being a dick. I thought **_I_ ** held that title!

Something about that woman rubbed me the wrong way. It could have been her pathetically unscathing insults, or the way she talked to me, or her overall lack of personality. For the past few days, she had avoided me, and I hid away from everyone in my little corner atop a crate, singing along to the radio. Joy had left the Prydwen for some missions, which could have certain effects, possibly negative, and every day since then, I'd ran up to the canteen, grabbing some cram, and then I scurried back down to my beloved box. On one such day, I returned to the box, and there to greet me was none other than Doe.

“This is a horrible place to be. You are inept at choosing an appropriate spot.” Another shitty insult.

“Hello to you too Doe, I see you still can't offend me.” I remarked dryly, walking around her and hopping onto the crate.

“Nobody likes you.” she responded, desperate to insult me behind her stony face. I knew that I wasn't liked on the Prydwen, apart from Joy, so Doe's words didn't affect me.

“Good to know. Is there any reason you're here aside from trying to belittle me?” I turned on the radio, and listened to the nervous radio host mumble about some sponsor.

“I would like to borrow the radio.” She must have heard my singing and wanted to destroy the radio.

“Borrow? Do you want to break it or something?” Doe looked away, then muttered another insult and barged past me.

“Well that was fucking weird.” He studied the radio, prodding it with His gloved hands.

“Tell me about it. I can't wait to get out of here.” Sitting on of the crate, I noted that He still looked like me, except for His perfect piercing blue eyes glinting evilly.

“We can go on a murder spree!” He wriggled giddily, like a child on his birthday.

“No, because I don't do that type of shit, I like comics and singing thank you very much.”

“Viccy enjoyed your singing.” He reminded me, spreading his mouth into a sinister smile. His default expression. While it was true that….. **_my wife_ ** enjoyed my singing, it was in a far more depraved, twisted way. If I remembered correctly, me singing was in reality screaming in pain.

“You're as bad as she was.” I sighed, shaking my head. Whatever tumour He was really needed to be removed, though I had yet to see an auto-doc in Boston. Another reason to leave the place. As if my wife wasn't enough reason.

“She's still alive, so I'm as bad as she **_is_ **. How'd you miss anyway, you shot her right in the stomach, and left her for dead in the middle of nowhere. Although you were still getting used to having only one working eye. On the bright side you still have it attached to you.” Always looking on the bright side. My life was going down hill, but at least I had my fucking useless eye being useless in my head. Truly inspirational!

“Is there any point to you actually being here? Don't you have somewhere else you can be a dick?”

“Not until three.” He shrugged, smug satisfaction sweeping across his face.

“Fucking fantastic.” I groaned, turning off the radio. No music had been playing for the last few minutes, which infuriated me. The radio kid kept on stuttering on a single word, so I doubted there'd be music anytime soon. It was ironic that Joy kept me sane, and without her, I was surrounded by people who viewed me with contempt. I was…..

“Isolated?” He suggested.

“Something like that.” I mumbled, staring at my hands.

 

* * *

 

 

Joy still hadn't returned, as expected. I wasn't worried, just lonely. That feeling hadn't graced my life in years, I didn't have any friends to be alone without. Except for Joy. Seriously, what was the big deal about me being lonely without that strange vaultie? That was why I avoided making any connections, I didn't want to become dependent on others. However, there I was, missing someone that I tried to kill, and who tried to call me. Friendships in the wasteland sure were unorthodox. Nobody had died yet, so it was successful I supposed.

Doe was being weirder than usual. She continued to call me things like “fool” and “idiot”, though she didn't do it as often. I began to be suspicious, especially when the radio went missing for a day. It had been returned the next day, and Doe had also vanished off of the face of the irradiated earth, which amplified my confusion and distrust of the woman.

I had been left in peace, nobody actually cared about the little corner I inhabited, and the kids running around the Prydwen were too afraid of me to bother me.

Most of them, anyway.

Flicking through an issue of Grognak one day, I noticed- with my good eye- a shadow dart behind a box, making a stifled noise. Such subtlety.

“Cone out.” I called to the shadow, not turning away from the comic. It had gotten to a good bit, where Grognak was running from cannibal bat babies. Whoever thought of cannibal bat babies must have been high. With the pace of a dying gecko, the shadow crept away from the box, coming into the dim red lighting where I could see them better. A kid, wearing a dumb cap and an even dumber fluffy coat, gazed at me with horrified curiosity.

“What do you want?” I mumbled, happy that Grognak had escaped from the bat babies. The kid stuttered, and shuffled closer to me.

“Is t-that Grognak?” they asked. I didn't look threatening, did I? Sure I wore my usual get-up, that could have been intimidating, but I didn't have my revolver. I didn't even have my pink bag, which was a shame because I had reread the same comic repeatedly. I could have stolen more from that small office where some “Proctor Quinlan” worked. I hadn't met the bloke, but he had a vast collection of Grognak comics, and I may have helped myself to one of the more battered issues while nobody was looking.

“Yeah, do you want it?” I was bored of it anyway. The story ended with Grognak escaping the jungle, and being transported to modern day Boston. It was essentially the origin story of the Unstoppables, which had a shaky start. It wasn't until a few issues in when it actually became interesting.

“Really?!” the kid whispered. He then slunk back uncertainly, shaking slightly. “We're n-not s-supposed to have c-comics, they're a distraction from duty.” Rehearsed, but shaky. Getting off of the crate, I handed the comic to the timid child.

“Take it, it'll be our secret.” I smiled. Kids loved secrets, and hiding them from adults was habitual, even if they were disciplined to do otherwise.

“The other squires are afraid of you.” he whispered, flipping through the faded pages in awe.

“Why are they afraid of me?” I inquired, waiting to hear the imaginative response. The squires probably thought I was some demon who lurked in the shadows.

“They know that the adults are afraid of you, and they can't kill you. And nobody actually has seen you, or knows what you do.” The squire came down to see what I was doing. How innocent. Moving back to turn on the radio, I chuckled slightly, and looked up to the ceiling.

“I could tell you about the time I fought against a raider king using a sword?” I offered, turning back to the young squire. His face became brighter and more lively, although the uncertainty still remained etched in his features.

“I should get back to my duties.” he mumbled, trying to turn away.

“It'll take ten minutes!” I promised, jumping onto my rather large soapbox. Sitting down, the squire readied himself for the best **_damn_ ** story he was ever going to hear.

“So, it all began five years ago. I was drunk and I stumbled into a place a little ways south of the Citadel. The trouble began when….”

It took longer than ten minutes. Honestly, I couldn't remember how long it took me, but I must have really had an effect on the kid, because the next day, he wound up waiting for me the next day in the little corner. He had a friend with him, and I found myself at a loss for words.

“Sam told me that you told stories.” the news squire murmured, deflating onto the floor. I knew that I had to tell another tale, and I wracked my brains, thinking of a possible moment I could stretch into an epic hour long fable. Taking off my duster, I stretched my arms. This story was going to take some major poetic license.

“How about the time I stopped a faction war?”

This continued every day, until the last day I was on the Prydwen, where more kids turned up and I had to make up more tales. During the previous days, I had been scolded by some of the braver Brotherhood members to stop distracting the kids, and I was threatened multiple times. Nothing came of those threats, ultimately. As I wrapped up my final story- which was about the infamous Steven the molerat- there was an adult waiting for me. There were two, in fact. One of them didn't surprise me, Doe always turned lurked around, eyeing my radio and absorbing in my stories with the barest hints of wonder. The other adult, though….

“Hey, sugar.” Joy greeted me, crazy as ever.

“Where have you been?” I asked, tenderly punching her shoulder. I listened halfheartedly, only catching the word “teleporter”, my attention focused on the bored Doe, her eyes filled with contempt and disgust, and her mouth twisted into a slight sneer.

“Anyway, I was ordered to tell you to go to the medical clinic. Something about your release. Unless you want to stay?” I had to admit that I had enjoyed my time on the Prydwen, but I was out of place. I wasn't keen on swapping uniforms from one cause I didn't believe in to another. At least the ranger coat actually made me look like a badass. A tight uniform wouldn't have been flattering for a scrawny bastard like me.

“I don't think I'll stay, got things to do, people to piss off, and a wife to kill.” I was especially determined to carry out the last part.

“Can you even get married in the wasteland?” Joy asked, a smirk flickering on her face.

“As long as there's an official who's qualified to act as a priest.” I explained, rubbing my head. That wedding was funny, especially since the Kings requested us to wear their weird clothes. The honeymoon period? Not so much.

“Are you sure you don't want to stay?” Joy offered one last time. There was a sense of worry in her voice, and I stood in silence, trying to make up my mind. Doe had long since returned to wherever.

“No. You're staying aren't you?” I mumbled, earning a nod from Joy.

“That's why I've been out the past few days, I'm helping the Brotherhood infiltrate the Institute.” The Institute. I'd forgotten all about them, not like they mattered to me. It mattered to Joy, because her son had been kidnapped by the Institute, or that's what she told me. She never gave me a reason to believe she was lying.

“You'll find your son.” I murmured, pulling Joy into a hug. It was a rare occurrence for me to do that, but I knew that Joy was increasingly fragile, and she needed to hold on a little longer to reach the end. She was going to beat the villain, and come back victorious with her son. Storybook, really.

“Thank you.” whispered Joy, before pulling away. “I'm going soon, and I don't know if I'm going to come back. I'm scared.” Tutting softly, I gripped her shoulders.

“I believe in you, Joy. Maybe I'll come and see you sometime and meet Shaun.”

“That'd be nice, Grimm. Thanks.” And then she walked away.

“She's going to die isn't she?” He asked, watching her leave with a fire in His eyes.

“I don't know.”

 

* * *

 

 

Leaving the Prydwen had been easy. I had been given my pink bag, and my precious revolver, and was basically kicked off. Crumbling ruins lined the streets beyond the airport, and in the distance I heard what sounded like a gunfight. Under the stormy sky, I threw my bag over my shoulder and whistled as I made my way to Goodneighbor. The plan was to stop off their, grab the pip-boy, then let Victoria come to me. I'd have to be alone, of course, and I ran the risk of falling into her plan, if she had a plan. It was a gamble, one which could go horribly wrong. Which it definitely would. I wasn't feeling confident, so my chances of success were low.

“What makes you think you'll find Viccy?” He floated alongside me, crossing His legs together. I tapped my gun holster thoughtfully, and bit my lip.

“She'll come to me. She loves games, and knowing her, she's probably watching me now.” I explained, trying to find my bearings. It was going to be easier to move around with the pip-boy’s map guiding me where to go. I knew that the thing was evil- I didn't particularly enjoy the prospect of going on a fucking journey that ended up with me saving the world- although it was going to be useful to keep track on my progress on my simple quest to kill my wife. The radio would also come in handy, for practical reasons…...maybe.

“Or carrying out whatever plan she made up.” He mused, being serious for once in His pathetic existence. “How'd she find you, anyhow?” I mulled it over in my head. A strange person flitting around place to place was pretty conspicuous, though it begged the question how Viccy knew what to look for- the wasteland was a big place to search- and why she hadn't kidnapped me yet.

“Because she likes games. And last time she tried that, you shot her. I suspect she's either going to kill you, or break you. As much as I hate you, I do want to keep hold of what little life I have, so I'm going to opt for the latter.” He was only interested in keeping me alive just so he could try and twist me.

“Thanks for your sage advice.” I replied sarcastically, hopping over a pile of rubble.

“I'm looking out for number one, which if you think about it is both of us.”

“You're a pain in the ass.” I groaned, spotting a group of raiders huddled around a building that looked like a school. Failing to find any grenades in my bag, I sought cover in a doorway.

“Hey raiders!” I poked my head out of the door and shot up my middle finger. “Go fuck yourselves!” Random distractions had been something I hadn't anticipated, and I was sick to death of bloody raiders. Anything would mix it up! Super mutants, deathclaws, **_hell_ ** , ferals would be more welcome than jackasses that were a few bullets short of a mag, and hyped on jet.

“Now might not be the best time, but I was running through a few name suggestions, since I don't have one.” He wandered into the street, calling out random names.

“Frank? No, no, Charlie? Dave?” One raider passed through Him, and was stopped by the bullet in his chest. Another one followed the first, and this one was smart enough to leap on me.

“ Terry? No….how about Lance? Fuck, that makes me sound like a dick. I know I am one, but I don't want to exactly advertise it. How about a fancy name, like George or Leonardo? Nope, too fancy….how about….” His ramblings continued as I kept a knife from entering my face, and the raider that had pinned me down snarled savagely.

“I'm on the middle of something!” I screamed, as the knife inched closer to me. Confused, the raider hesitated, giving me the upper hand.

“Someone's being grumpy.” He folded his arms, barely in my field of view. “Besides, I'm only speculating here, but if you could write down somewhere that my favourite so far is Dan, that'd be great.” Finishing stabbing the raider, I threw away the knife, and touched the cut on my face. Too shallow to scar, thankfully. I didn't need another reason to hide my face. Turning to Him, I raised an eyebrow.

“I'll get right on that, just after I'm done **_killing these morons_ **!” One raider was in power armour, which was fucking convenient for them. I dispatched the other two quite quickly, although the armoured prick was another problem. They fired at me calmly, not relinquishing any ground. I had avoided most of the bullets as I ran towards him, but some nicked me, sending small trails of blood flowing down my arm. The bastard finally ran out of bullets, and as they began to reload, I put my gun against the glass of the helmet.

“Goodbye!” I grinned, pulling the trigger. The glass shattered, and the power armour shuddered, before falling backwards onto the ground with a thud, a cloud of dust rising from the corpse. I had waited so long to do that, and it was worth the wait.

“You know, since I can only talk to you, a little input would be appreciated. Choosing a name is hard enough as it is without you being rude.” He huffed. Silently, I reloaded, and wasted those six bullets into Him.

“Did that feel good? Did you get that out of your system?” he asked childishly, sticking his tongue out at the end.

“I'm still not calling you Dan.” I muttered, continuing on with the journey.

“Fuck you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Why was the air full of smoke? Goodneighbor was filled in a heavy haze, when I entered, and nobody was around. Then I heard the fire. Rushing around the alley, and past the entrance to the bar, was a blaze of bodies, stacked on top of each other. Staring at the flames mournfully, stood Hancock, and a dozen other drifters. Seeing me, he shuffled over and sighed, lighting a cigarette.

“What's going on?” The inferno stretched higher, as rain started to douse the flames.

“We were attacked. Gunners. They were looking for something, and they weren't afraid to use force.”

“Those are the ones who died?” I guessed, following the mayor into his madhouse. The fire was a funeral pyre. History books mentioned them a lot, and it was a good way to be remembered. When I died after wrestling a behemoth, I wanted to be burnt on a pile of bodies too. Or a pile of wood.

We strode up the stairs- I managed to grab the pip-boy box from one of the rooms-and came back outside, standing on a balcony overlooking the town.

“My bodyguard died. You wouldn't have known her, hell you might have liked her, but she was a friend. The only one who gave a damn about me really.” Hancock silently puffed away, leaning on the railings as I leant against the brick wall.

“What about Piper? You're pretty protective of her.” I pointed out after a few minutes.

“Nah, we're pals and all, but that girl doesn't let anyone get close to her. The real story is what goes on inside her mind, I'll tell ya that much. Where is she anyway?”

“It's complicated. Long story short, my wife's back in town and I wouldn't tell Piper my life story.” I explained, fiddling with the pip-boy strap as I tried to put it on.

“She's stubborn, but she'll ease up. I suppose it's because of the shades.” he rasped, pointing to my glasses.

“What about them?”

“Well you see-”

 

And then his head exploded.

 

The gunshot echoed through the town, as I screamed for help, blood and brains splattered on my clothes. I witnessed Victoria wave at me from a rooftop, wearing an all too familiar reporter's cap. **_Shit_ **. I needed to get to Piper. Fast. As soon as the first people rushed to my aid, I pointed to the rooftop, and barked a series of orders. Once that was done, I ran out of Goodneighbor, the pip-boy hastily fastened onto my arm, along with the few others that saw the devil that killed Hancock. Whilst the rest headed one way, I darted for Diamond City. I was going to kill that monster, and save Piper.

If it wasn't too late already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's nearly Christmas, or whatever holiday you believe in. Technically it ain't December but that hasn't stopped certain people (damn you Jeffery). Whether you're a Christian, Jew, Mormon, whatever, everyone can agree on one thing: everyone needs to smile. So do whatever it takes to make others smile. If it means complimenting then, or helping them through tough times, everyday people help save lives doing small deeds. Shit, I didn't say something random. How about go dye your hair purple and wear a purple santa-claus costume. That'll confuse the kids.


	13. ....but I know just what you're running from

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, we've got dark themes ahead, so uh, consider this a warning. Or don't, it's up to you.

**_Shit shit shit shit_ ** . Skidding across the ground, I rushed for Diamond City. Hancock was dead. Piper was going to be next. Viccy was responsible. I was going to kill Viccy. My mind sped through a thousand different thoughts in a single moment, becoming my sole purpose. **_Shit shit shit shit_ **. This was all a game to her, killing and scheming was trivialised like it was just a game of chess. It pissed me off that the pieces she got rid weren't even part of the twisted game.

That bitch wasn't going to hurt anyone else, especially not Piper. My breath left my body, but I still persevered through the aching pain throbbing in my chest. As the city came into view, I gritted my teeth and sped up, sprinting to the entrance. Not even bothering to acknowledge anybody, I ran through the narrow walkway into the city, and down the stairs that led to Piper's place. **_Please be alive_ **.

I imagined a gruesome scene, with Piper staring at the ceiling, her face stretched out in terror, as Nat would try screaming, but Victoria would have her hand over her mouth, preparing to slit her throat. Shit, I forgot about Nat. If Nat was dead, or even hurt, I'd make Victoria's death slow. Bursting through the door, I held my gun high, nearly dying inside when I saw the sight before me. It was worse than I had imagined. Victoria, smiling insanely, raised her hand, and…..

Yawned.

What the fuck?!

Piper and my soon-to-be-dead wife were laughing. Oh no. Both heads turned to me, covered in blood, and red faced, and they greeted me in a peculiar way.

“Grimm?” they said in unison, appearing to be confused. For a moment, I was too stunned to do anything. Frankly, my window to kill Victoria had passed. It didn't stop me from trying.

“You son of a-” I growled, not finishing my sentence because I was too focused on my revolver against her forehead. Victoria appeared calm, not worried in the slightest. Even in her final moments, she didn't give up the charade. Except that it wasn't her final moment. I chuckled as Piper pressed her gun against the back of my head, wishing she would let me do what I had came to do.

“Grimm, what are you doing?” she hissed, panicking.

“About to pull the trigger, what does it look like? Now back away because this has been a long time coming.” She should have been dead anyway, I was merely about to put her back in the ground. I realised that I hadn't buried her, and I wasn't going to make the second mistake for the second time. When I was done, I was going to incinerate the corpse.

“Grimm, put the gun down! You can't do this!” Piper pleaded, putting more pressure on my skull.

“Do you have any idea who this is?” I asked.

“Yes, she's Sunny, not whoever you think she is! Now put the gun down!” Dammit Piper, why'd you have to get in the way? Glaring at the manipulative demon, I holstered my gun, and pointed at her.

“As soon as you leave, I'm going to kill you.” I promised, hating the subtle smug smile on her stupid face.

“I don't know what you mean, Grimm.” she grinned, brushing her blue hair from her blue eyes. First it was pink, and now blue? It'd be red by the time I was finished with her. Weirder still, her accent had changed to that of someone from the south, like Joy. Viccy was preying on Piper's kind nature, and nothing was more innocent than a blue haired, grinning southerner.

“Grimm, stop it!” Piper growled, lowering her gun and standing next to Victoria. Piper apologised to her “friend” and told me to leave.

“We'll speak about this later.” she told me, murder in her eyes. As reluctant as I was to leave Piper alone with that **_monster_ ** , I was too late to stop her making friends. The reporter was too trusting. And Victoria was too smart. Standing outside, I breathed in the bitter cold air. Hancock's death brought me to Diamond City, to inevitably drive a wedge between me and Piper, leaving her able to kill the reporter whilst simultaneously messing with my head, and without any consequences. Smart. The door opened, and to my horror, stood the blue eyed devil.

“Long time, no see.” she chuckled, her voice back to the husky tone I had once found attractive. Now, her voice grated against my soul, unnerving- and potentially scaring- me.

“What do you want!?” I was tempted to shoot her as she lit a cigarette and pressed it to her lips.

“Walk with me, Grimm.”

“No.”

Victoria looked at me darkly, and took the cigarette out of her mouth.

“Do it, otherwise I'll go back and kill your reporter, and maybe her sister too. Nat, wasn't it?” She already knew about them when we first met, and she let it slip in the conversation without me mentioning Nat, which raised my first suspicions. Good to see I was right. Bad to see that she was still alive. Linking our arms, she led me through the city slowly, smiling contently.

“This is nice, isn't it? It's been six years since I've seen you, we should catch up, don't you think?” Only she could make a threat, and then carry on with casual conversation.

“I'd rather you just die, it'd be super convenient if you did.” With a fake laugh, she dug her fingernails in my arm, making me wince.

“You're so funny, I've missed that about you. But I miss your screams more. I tortured way more guys, but there's something about your screaming that is so…” she paused for breath, and whispered into my ear. “....delicious.” Her breath smelt like smoke and gum drops, another quality she ruined for me.

“Is this the part where you take me away to some hole in the ground, and then torture me?” I guessed, trying to block out the memories. Memories of pain, and suffering, where I'd wish for death and beg for it to be over.

“No, that comes later. So eager.” she murmured, gripping me tighter. “No, I'm going to break you, kill everyone you know, and **_then_ ** I'm going to take you to that hole in the ground and torture you.”

“So you're going to kill Piper, regardless.”

“We've established that, yes.” Victoria nodded calmly.

“So what's stopping me from killing you?”

“Grimm, do you think that I haven't thought of that?”

“I'm hoping you haven't, because I want to shoot you.” Stopping, Victoria pulled a slip of paper from a pocket and waved it around. “This, my dear husband, is a bill of sale.” Frowning, I aimed my revolver at her. We were in a back alley, so I'd have at least half a minute to leave the city after I pulled the trigger.

“You're going to have to try harder than a piece of paper.”

“This bill of sale,” she continued, ignoring me, “lists the sale of one slave, that has a certain accent. Your accent, to be precise.” I could see where this going. “This was from a few months ago, and I followed the trail, thinking it was you. I was very surprised to learn that it was someone else, your older sister to be precise.” My sister? She could have been lying, which I suspected was the case. What if she wasn't? How did she tell my sister that I was alive? My name. My **_real_ ** name. I shouldn't have told Viccy my real name, but people did dumb things when in love. I thought it was love, until it was too late to go back. Things would change if she could confirm that any member of my family was alive.

“Prove that you met my sister.”

“I'm always one step ahead.” she winked, looking at my shaking hands. “She said to me that when you were five years old, you used to collect shells and and give them names. If you kill me, you'll never know where she was. Maybe I know where she is right now.” Damn, was she thorough. I knew she was using the location of my family to stop me from shooting her, as well as using Piper as protection. Had she only threatened to kill Piper, or only tease at the information of my sister, I would have killed her there and then.

“So, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to be friends with the reporter, and maybe string her along a bit, and then I'm going to make you watch as she dies. The beauty is that she's protecting me from you! How ironic is that? The pathetic sap was so lonely that she jumped at the chance to talk to someone, and now she trusts me more than she trusts you. She trusted me so much that she told me where you were and how long for.” Victoria then rambled on about how she waited for me to get out of the Brotherhood’s grasp, whilst I searched for a way out of this nightmare.

“I could just leave.” I shakily countered, receiving a disapproving look, like a mother scolding a child.

“It's cute that you think that. I know you won't leave, because you're too noble. Behind that indifferent smile of yours, you won't stand for suffering, especially when I'm the one who's hurting people.” I held back a choked noise, finally coming to terms that I was well and truly fucked. It was never my intention for Piper to be dragged into this mess, which is why I blocked her out. I just made things worse. I hurt her, and she took solace from the very person who I tried to protect her from.

“What happens if I come with you now?” I asked, unable to stop my life from falling apart.

“Well, Grimm, that's not an option. That happened last time, remember? That didn't end well for either of us. This time, though, it'll be fun to break your spirit first, then break your body. That means I'm still going to kill your little pal.”

“Please. I'm begging you to just leave Piper alone, I'll do whatever you want.” I was so terrified of that woman. **_I_ ** barely survived her, so I knew that Piper's death would be worse for her than whatever pain was inflicted on me. I couldn't make her go through that. Brushing her fingers against my lips, she chuckled and leant towards me.

“I like it when you beg. Too late, though. I've made up my mind, and I'm looking forward to hearing you beg more when I gut her.” Planting her lips onto mine, she let go of my arm and winked at me.

“See you around, and good luck trying to convince Piper.” As soon as Victoria was out of side, I coughed up bile, spewing it against the floor. I continued retching, the acidic bile becoming blood, as my stomach tried to eject whatever I had in me. When I was finished, I wiped my mouth with my sleeve, tears mingling with the blood around my face. I needed to get a grip, had I any sense. Victoria, my wife, my own personal monster, had reduced me to nothing more than a child, as I huddled against a wall, sobbing.

**_She's going to kill me, she's going to kill Piper, she's going to kill everyone_ **.

The reality was worse, she wasn't going to kill me. She was going to trace her knife across my chest, and rip my flesh apart, and when that had healed, she was going to do it again. She'd say soothing things as she broke my bones, and she was going to brand my back, claiming me as her property.

**_I was going to be her slave, her personal pet_ **.

Still shaking, I came to the bleak conclusion that I couldn't do a fucking thing about it, and as I put the barrel of my revolver in my mouth, I contemplated ending it there. It was cowardly, but there was no other way out. I couldn't call it quits and go on with my day. Pulling the trigger was the only solution, the only way I could quit.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” He warned softly, crouching down. “Don't be an idiot, we got out of it once, and we can do it again. Let's put that fucker back in the grave.”

“Last time it was easier.”

“No, it's exactly like last time. Just go through with it, and when you and Victoria are alone, kill her. It's not hard.”

“But I can't.”

“Fine then. Pull the trigger, let her win, and for a moment I thought you were better off without me in charge, but I was obviously wrong.” Now, that changed things. My one true method of motivation was proving that fucking bastard wrong. I wasn't going to let Him tell me what to do. He wanted me to pull the trigger, He hated me as much as I hated myself, so He'd win too. Like hell was that going to happen. Taking in deep, heavy breaths, I hesitantly got on my feet, taking the gun out of my mouth and holstering it.

“This sucks.” I groaned, still feeling worn and petrified.

“Totally.” He agreed, his shark smile intensifying. “So, let's go and fail to convince Piper that Viccy is evil!” The dickish pessimism was still annoying.

 

* * *

 

 

“Grimm, what the hell was that?!” Piper yelled, as I wordlessly made my way to the sofa.

“I'm being calm right now.” I mumbled, my voice low and lacking any personality. “I would appreciate if you could do the same. I'm not having a good day.” That probably pissed Piper off.

“You tried to shoot someone in my home! I'm not going to be calm!” Yeah, she was pissed.

“I imagine how that must look-”

“It looked very bad.”

“-but I'd like to explain the situation to you.” I had that chance on the Prydwen, and I should have explained it then rather than staring dejectedly at the floor, whilst thinking of what to say.

“You missed that chance, Grimm. I've known Sunny longer than I've known you.”

“Silly question, ” He interrupted, pointing at Piper, “why do we care whether she lives or dies?” If she died, I'd get tortured, was the simple answer. The complex answer could have been that I might have slightly, maybe been concerned about Piper, who was my friend. Maybe.

“That makes sense. Save her so you don't become more unstable. I don't want another voice to have to talk over.” He nodded, pacing the room. Raising my head, I spoke to Piper.

“I understand that we don't know much about each other-”

“We know nothing about each other.” she cut me off again.

“-yet I'll tell you that Sunny is actually called Victoria.”

“How do I know this isn't bullshit?! You're not trustworthy, and I've only spoken to you a few times.” If only Piper knew. If only she knew about what I'd gone through. Maybe then she might be sympathetic. Hell, her sympathy was another reason why I never told her anything. Now, though, I was willing to tell her everything if she gave me a chance.

“I know that I'm not the best at being honest. Trust me on this. Sunny is Victoria, my wife. And she is the reason I wear shades and my eye is fucked up.” I took off my trusty shades, revealing the upper part of my face. Last time I checked, I had a jagged scar zigzagging down my eyelid, ending at the nose. Piper waved her hands around wildly, exasperatedly grumbling, before exploding violently.

“See, I can't tell if you're lying or not! I don't know what to think! But I'm angry because you still tried to kill Sunny!”

“So will you keep away from her or not?”

“No.”

This was just like the boy who cried wolf. I kept on making up bullshit, and when I told the truth, it was hard to separate it from the lies. Mix that with whatever Viccy told Piper, and then she'd have no reason to trust me.

“I get it.” About to leave, I stopped, and smirked.

“I forgot. You saved me, so I'll tell you something about myself. Since you can't ask any **_good_ ** questions I'll tell you something straight off the bat. I spent six whole months being tortured by Victoria. The result was a voice in my head and shitty eyesight.” I left the trailer, feeling marginally better than I had earlier. The only was was up, I figured.

“Or down, depending on whether or not you succeed in killing Viccy. I can't believe you told someone I exist, well you're still convinced that we're two different identities.”

“We are different people.” I reminded Him, as I walked to the bar. I needed a place to stay, after my **_terrific_ ** day.

“I don't want to get into this again. When did Piper save you?”

“When I had my gun in my mouth.” I answered.

“I thought I saved you! ” He objected, raising his voice. Rubbing my eyes, I looked at my pip-boy- something I needed to muck around with. I shrugged, and opened the door to the bar.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

 

I certainly had to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the part where it goes to the hole with all the other unfinished works! I mean, not for years, but certainly until the new year. Now, I'm just going to sink back into my pit of sorrow! Have a good one!


	14. A Twisted Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, more depressing stuff. Suicidal thoughts and mentions of rape.

Frowning, I twisted the various dials and mashed the numerous buttons on my pip-boy. I was obviously getting unsavoury looks from Piper- there was no fucking surprise there- and Victoria looked at me with a blank gaze, as usual, so I opted to figure out how to get the damn radio working. It was a complex problem, and it was distracting me from the nagging problem of my impending death. The perky tunes of love and radiation filled the air, dispelling the fears and doubts. Nobody could be sad with music! I grinned, playing along grudgingly to Victoria's sadistic game.

Struggling to adjust the volume of the radio, I leant back on the pile of rubble I had claimed, shifting snugly and appearing very pleased with myself. Inwardly, I was annoyed. There was no way to kill Viccy without Piper noticing. I might have been completely terrified and petrified of my wife, which caused me to hesitate killing her multiple times.

That was only a **_tiny_ ** problem, though.

It wasn't like I had an **_irrational fear_ ** of her.

That would be ridiculous!

When the music shifted over into the nervous, monotonous ramblings of a squeaky voiced man, I huffed, and turned off the radio. An awkward silence settled around us, until Viccy clapped her hands together and grabbed me and Piper by the hand.

“Now ain't this sweet. All three of us are going on an adventure! We'll have some laughs, swap stories and have ourselves a good time.” she loudly stated in her convincingly southern voice, pulling us together into an unwanted hug. It wasn't the only unwanted thing I got from her- quite a few things came to mind- and I could smell her signature sugary, smokey scent.

Part of me realised that I had to protect Piper, especially when she revealed that she was going out for a story in the Dugout Inn after our semi-serious argument. I was flattered that she let me know, but I was annoyed that she had also invited Victoria.

The moment I had woken up from a weird dream about a child riding a mutant hound, I had rushed over to Piper's place, and was inches away from killing a sleeping Victoria- who was sleeping on Piper's couch- before I stopped myself. As much as I wanted to see her dead, I wanted Piper not to hate me, and to see my sister. I very much doubted that I'd ever find out where she was, but if I could find closure, that was the important bit.

And that was how I ended up squashed against my wife in a crushing hug.

The face reconstruction certainly had changed how she looked. The Viccy I knew had a sharp, seductive face, full of scars, with pale skin and long, white flowing hair. “Sunny” had a round, childish face, with glowing rosy cheeks, and an innocent demeanour. Viccy was anything but innocent, which didn't turn out so well for me.

She was dominant, but it became a lot less fun for me when I was in a shack, and tied together naked. Sounded like a usual night with her, except that I had been kidnapped and I was bleeding everywhere.

“Where are we going again?” I asked, squirming away from Viccy. Still giving me an icy stare, Piper answered me- in a somewhat passive aggressive tone.

“ ** _We_ ** are heading off to Goodneighbor to help, **_you_ ** are following us and acting all crazy.” When was she going to learn that I was always crazy? Probably never.

“Come on,” He objected, peering over Piper, “he's not crazy. I like to think of him as emotionally challenged!” I could count on Him to shit on my already awful day. Rolling my eyes, I scratched the back of my neck thoughtfully. The best part about my shades was that nobody would notice me rolling my eyes, which was most of the time.

“Well, I was there when Hancock's head imploded, and splattered against me, so excuse me if I want to bring his killer to justice.” Piper ignored my comment, and lowered her cap.

I had filled in Piper with his death before we left, which I had just realised ruined whatever Viccy had planned. Admittedly, I wanted to pay my respects to the pirate king of Goodneighbor, even though I hadn't really known him. He seemed like the type I'd have gotten along with.

At any rate, Piper was unstable, both from me being a total dick, and Hancock's death, meaning that fighting with her was out of the question. Not that I wanted to fight with her. I cared for the fiery reporter, she was the only sane person who had actually talked to me in years. A pinch of normality didn't go amiss. She needed someone to help her, because I knew for a fact that she was too stubborn to ask for support, and I'd rather she'd have gotten help from someone useful instead of a psychopath who was extremely dangerous, not to mention someone I detested, and the wife that tried to kill said psychopath.

Speaking of the wife, she continued to be bubbly as she chattered away with Piper about a certain molerat.

“Grimm, you listening?” Viccy asked, knowing that I was.

“You're talking about Steven the molerat, and the time he robbed The Tops?” What a heist, although he had help from a certain Wiseguy.

“Does everyone know about Steven the damn molerat except for me?” groaned Piper, her dark mood replaced by an agitated, but playful, smirk.

“It's a Californian thing.” we explained in unison. Before I could help myself, I chuckled, and looked at my wife warmly.

**_No._ **

Shaking my head, I stood up, and grumbled.

“I'm going for a walk.” I murmured, storming off before anybody could stop me. What the fuck was happening? I hated Viccy, I did. I loathed every part of that demon with every fibre of my being, so that shouldn't have happened. It did though. I couldn't take it back. And, as I heaved against a brick wall, my mind came to terms with the last ten minutes.

I had never been able to allow myself to grieve properly. After I shot her, after I assumed that I killed Victoria, I just bottled up everything, the good and the bad, and continued with my life. Those emotions, thoughts and memories were brought up like the bile that left my mouth. I really needed to stop vomiting, it created noise, and the last thing I wanted was to die from a curious ghoul, or a starving dog attracted by my horrific retching.

Wiping the acidic liquid from my mouth, I shifted against the wall so my back was against it. My legs wobbled violently, but I refused to sit or rest. Instead, I shakily reached into my pocket and took out a handful of gumdrops, shoving them quickly into my mouth. Closing my eyes, I focused on my breathing, and settled into a calm, relaxed state. I floated endlessly, forgetting who I was, and what I was doing. My mind melted, dissolving into the surroundings, mingling with the nothingness that so beautifully engulfed me. For an eternity, all I felt was bliss. I barely noticed cold, lithe hands snaking their way up my legs. I was floating…..

My eyes snapped open, and the illusion vanished. Once again panicking, I sped away from whoever had snuck up on me. My escape screeched to a halt when I caught my leg on a loose brick, and collided with the coarse gravel. Lying on my stomach, I saw a pair of muddy boots skip across the ground.

I knew who it was the moment I heard a soft, low chuckle. Viccy turned me onto my back, and placed her hands on her hips.

“Now, what am I going to do with you? We weren't meant to be going to Goodneighbor again, but I guess this is a good time as any to teach you a little manners.” She tutted, her body blocking out the sun. Funny, she always scared the light away. Straddling me, fear suddenly triumphed over logic and reason. My thrashing around was ended by a sharp blow to my head. Dazed, I couldn't stop a gag being forced around my mouth.

“I can't torture you, not out in the open. Your screams are really loud, and you'll wake up if I do it when you're unconscious.” I vividly remembered her sick games- they weren't games to me- and suddenly realised what was coming next. I blinked back tears, as Victoria kissed my forehead.

“So I guess I'll leave you here, and you won't be able to follow us. You always were bad with directions, darling.” Throwing off her top, she grinned evilly.

“Although, it would be a shame to let this go to waste though.” I openly screamed, my hollow cries muffled greatly by the gag. They were cut short by Victoria's fist, and the nightmarish reality faded into nightmarish visions, as my eyes closed.

 

* * *

 

_I didn't want to wake up._

_Every moment I spent dreaming was another moment delaying the inevitable agony I was going to feel. Not physical agony, but the soul crushing, spirit draining affliction. My mind subjected me to many a nightmare, yet it wasn't real. I could just chase away the darkness for another day._

_Too bad I couldn't do that with my real problems._

_Swimming endlessly in my mind, I pondered the point of everything. Here, I was calm. Just drifting along to the current of my brain waves, pulled by the tide of my longings and desires. I wanted to die. I didn't want to wake up._

_Still, I had to wash ashore into reality, where my suffering was real, and I had no strength to carry on living. I supposed that this was another bleak moment, another obstacle to overcome. Yet, they just kept on coming, and I wouldn't overcome them. Not that I didn't try. I had tried so hard, and yet I had ended up like I had six years ago. The only problem was the world didn't need another empty husk. It needed another careless fool, like me, wandering the wastes and spreading joyful fuckery everywhere!_

_My mind suddenly brought me back to the days before the fool I had become, and back to the time I had stared into the eyes of a crazy maniac._

_Now, Roulette was an interesting fellow. Intelligent, ruthless, and so lucky. He'd thrown in his lot with the Fiends, and had remained the most civilised out of anybody in the whole of the Mojave. He commanded an air about him that just instantly made people respect him. Even if they were his prisoners._

_It could have been his sharp suit, or the way he spoke. When I killed him, I had realised that he was respected because he was unassuming. Nobody expected the calm one to be the worst demon east of the Colorado. He hid his darkness behind a ridiculous smile, and calmly chatted away to his victims as he spun the chamber of his revolver-_ **_my_ ** _revolver- against their heads._

_“Let's play a game.” he would say, sporting a soft exterior. And every time, he would win._

_His image, his words, his very personality, stuck with me. It was as if his very personality wormed its way into my own. I had no idea why, or how, and I slowly just accepted it. I had carried the same revolver as him, made the same jokes as him. I always smiled sarcastically, but I never dared utter those words._

_Let's play a game._

_Let's play a game…._

I woke, spluttering, besides a campfire. A thin blanket had been wrapped around me, and I shuddered despite myself, clinging desperately at the fading warmth. My clothes were neatly folded in a pile on the ground, yet my aching head hardly registered it. Prodding at the fire with a stick, with her resting bored face, was Doe. Her generic features were settled on the fire, and her empty eyes conveyed no emotion at all.

“So you didn't die after all.” she observed, not taking her eyes off the crackling flames.

“I've survived worse.” I groaned, rubbing my head tenderly. My thoughts were jumbled, and no emotions emerged from within me. **_So that's what rock bottom felt like_ **. Looking at me with a sympathetic expression, something I hardly expected from Doe, she replied softly.

“Looking at your scars, you evidently have survived much worse.” There was the sympathy. How bad was I to get an emotionless statue to feel some pity for me? Certainly more than I thought.

“So you saw the scars?” I asked, staring dejectedly into her dull eyes.

“I saw everything.” she murmured, prodding me with the stick.

“Yeah, could you just pass me my clothes please?” I shuffled closer to the neat pile, extending my arm feebly. Blankly, Doe threw me my clothes and turned around.

“I won't look. There's nothing to look at anyway.”

“Did you just insult me?” Slyly, a flicker of amusement flashed across her face.

“Maybe I did.” Well she'd certainly changed.

“I'm impressed.” As Doe looked away, I slid on my clothes carefully, grimacing at the way the shadows of the fire danced across my scarred skin. My back was worse than the ones on my chest, although the brand seared into my shoulder was still humiliating, and the darkness that lapped at the skull on my shoulder- the very skull that subjected me to hell- brought the demonic symbol to life.

“Do you know who attacked you?” Doe faced me now, twirling my revolver in her hand skillfully. Chewing on my lip, I considered admitting the truth. The moment of insanity passed, and I shrugged impassively. I wasn't about to tell every bastard my tragic backstory. Piper had earned her explanation, or at least part of an explanation. I owed Doe nothing.

“No idea, they probably enjoyed themselves though.” That was only half a lie. I outstretched my hand, and gestured for my trusty weapon. “Can I have that back please?” Sitting down, I placed my shades on my face comfortably, adding the finishing touches to my cheerful facade. I should have been a spy! If they had spies, yet if any existed, I wouldn't know of them.

“No.” Doe grunted, still playing around with the gun.

“Why not?” I wasn't going to shoot her, which I guessed seemed like the most likely outcome.

“Because you were talking in your sleep about dying. You're compromised, you aren't medically fit to handle any weaponry. Especially not after what you've gone through.” I waved my hand away. I wanted to say that it hadn't been the first time, nor the most traumatising. I'd still have been opening up to her about something, so I bit my tongue.

“I'll survive. You can read me the riot act later, just give me the gun please and I'll be on my merry way.” My smile wasn't convincing enough, because Doe shook her head and furrowed her brow.

“Unacceptable. It would be irresponsible of me to allow an unfit individual to be left on their own.” She was such an austere person- I couldn't believe that she was so bad that I had to describe her as such.

“Who even says austere anymore?” He wheezed, laughing uncontrollably. “What does it even mean?” I shut out His annoying laughter, and focused on Doe. Her power armour was nowhere to be seen, and I noticed her jumpsuit had tears, exposing her scratched skin. There was a bloody streak on her cheek, and her hair was all over the place.

“You need my help.” I concluded simply, saying it as a statement rather than a question. Doe faltered for a second, startled that I had shifted the attention onto her.

“N-no, I merely think it's unwise to leave you unaided.” Bullshit.

“You're lost aren't you?”

“I'm not at liberty to say.” She was more lost than I usually was. That must have been some kind of achievement.

“You need the map from my pip-boy to go somewhere.” It was logical and pragmatic, meaning that was Doe's plan. She was in the middle of foreign territory, with no allies and the only person guaranteed to not shoot at her was a possible psychopath. In other words, me.

“It is quite possible that I may need your assistance.” A slight embarrassed flush tinted the knight's cheeks, and her eyes were covered by her molerat’s nest that barely resembled her hair.

“Why didn't you just take the pip-boy while I was sleeping?” No response was given, and Doe wriggled around uncomfortably on her makeshift seat.

“You don't know how to use it, do you?” I grinned, looking at my pip-boy. I still hadn't worked out how it worked, but I still had a brief understanding of how to use the map. It probably needed updating, because I really didn't need to know where a Slocum’s Joe- whatever that was- was. I didn't have the mental capacity to memorise where one ridiculously named place was. I didn't know that it was located in the northwest part of my map, nor did I know that Lexington was besides it.

After my revelation, Doe was bright scarlet, and she seemed ashamed to even look at me. Eventually, she stammered out a few words.

“I need your help.” she admitted. How hard had it been to admit that? The Brotherhood weren't used to outside help, especially not a strict believer in the doctrine, who shunned help. It was the common “help makes me look weak” trope.

“Okay!” I clapped my hand together, and grinned, the emptiness within me returning with a vengeance. I was close to breaking, but I put on a brave face. Had Doe handed me the revolver, my head would have been splattered across the floor. Yet another distraction appeared. All I had to do was find more distractions, more ways to keep the numbing tendrils at the back of my mind from wrapping themselves around me.

_I said that I was never going to say those words._

_The truth was that I was playing a game with my mind._

_I imagined dying, and I faded from reality in that moment. I experienced nothing, the crushing abyss swallowing me whole, as I struggled to rise to the depths. My body didn't betray my thoughts, but all the while, I kept hearing those words._

_Let's play a game._

**_Let's play a game_ ** _…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I'm still writing, it's the only thing keeping me sane right now. A wise person once told me that sometimes pizza at my local take out is reduced if you use a special coupon, and I just think that's the wisest thing anyone's said to me. So here I am, eating pizza at eleven at night, writing notes and humming along to music. Sure is the life!


	15. Shooting at the Madman

Flipping a table on its side, I ducked behind it, missing the emerald plasma onslaught that flew through the room. Doe swiftly followed, returning fire with rage. I had to give it to the knight, she certainly knew when to scare others with her look of pure zealous hatred. Checking the chamber of my gun, I groaned. Even with the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I still felt nothing, and the relief of peace still called to me. 

“‘Come with me’, you said. ‘It'll be fun’, you said. It's not fun!” I roared over the sound of death threats and plasma rounds colliding with everything in a spectacular display of destruction. 

“For the record, I did no such thing!” Doe screamed, tossing a grenade over the table. I laughed bitterly- keeping up appearances for the sake of appearing interested in what was happening. 

“I like to think that you did! At least then you'd be expressive!” A gunner had gathered enough courage to face us directly, but was immediately shot down by Doe. 

“Is that expressive enough for you?!” she yelled, stunning both me and the gunner who'd been shot. 

Yeah that was pretty expressive. 

Dragging the body towards her, Doe yanked the various weapons and devices from the dead gunner- who still wore a look of shock- and with the emotion within her dying down, she gave me a handful of plasma grenades. The gunners sure were well equipped- The NCR didn't have as good equipment as these half starved mercs. 

As the barrage of plasma swirled violently around us, Doe shuffled towards me and whispered in my ear. 

“On the count of three, we toss the grenades and make our stand.” she told me, passively fidgeting with her explosives. The ferocity surprised me, but I was equally surprised by the transition from that to the emotionless rock I had been accustomed to.

Her tactic was rather last ditch, but I was the type who loved last ditch efforts. 

Any maniac with a revolver would. 

At the mention of her plan, excitement stirred inside of me. I longed to kill someone, and while I would usually suppress that feeling, I was relieved that I wasn't empty. Doe mouthed silently, and on “three”, we lobbed the grenades, hearing the loud curses and exclamations of the gunners.

Flicking on the classical radio of my pip-boy, I jumped up from the table, laughing loudly as multiple viridescent explosions sent gunners flying. With crazed eyes, I shot at the remaining gunners, not caring for my own safety. Kill first, feel pain later. A dramatic piano accompanied the chorus of screams the gunners made as I picked off the ones that couldn't move. Each begged pathetically, and I couldn't help but savour the way their bodies convulsed wildly as a single bullet entered each of their brains. 

As the crescendo faded into nothingness, so did my emotions. Back to feeling nothing. Even a wound caused by a bullet that had skimmed my arm hardly tingled. 

 “I'd say that was quite fun.” Lounging on a nearby desk, He flicked through a newspaper with apparent boredom, although the smile that was taking over His face suggested otherwise. Knowing He had something to do with my sudden sadistic thoughts, I thrust my hands in my pockets and strode over to Him. 

“I guess I've got you to thank for the urge to kill?” I leant against the same desk and picked up a newspaper of my own. With a frustrated huff, He got off His back and positioned Himself so He sat on the desk. 

“Well someone has to look after your suicidal !” He bellowed, the newspaper dematerialising in His hands. It wasn't like He was helping for my sake. “I am though, you need help. And not from the voice in your head.” Because finding someone to talk to who didn't want to stab me, kill me or rob me was so easy! Still looking angry, He jumped off and landed solidly on his feet. Looking up to the ceiling, His eyes glistened deviously as the rage twisted into a calm, peaceful exterior. Meaning shit was brewing inside that twisted mind of His. 

“I think it was quite smart of the gunners to set up shop in an old broadcasting studio. But I know they called this place something stupid. Like Gunner studio, or plaza. Bad guys and naming things don't mix.” He snorted. Doe walked over to me, hoisting her rifle over her shoulder. 

“This area is clear, but my squadron aren't around. I think they were taken to a lower floor.” she grunted, passing through Him and scattering Him into oblivion. Nodding, I loaded my revolver, and walked towards the knight. 

“What's the plan?” I asked, trying to get the tedious task over with. Doe was enjoying this about as much as I was. She'd explained to me that she'd been separated from her squad had been assaulted and brought back to the gunner base. She had spent hours following them, and was going to get help by shuffling to a doctor in Diamond City. Doe should have gone straight to her floating fortress, but I imagined it failure was unacceptable, and by the time a team would be prepped, her team would be dead. Which led to her dragging me into the situation, useful only because I was a bullet sponge, and I had a pip-boy that could help with directions. Doe wasn't perfect with directions, and it was evident she had no idea where she was going. It was pure luck that led her to find me. 

“It's unlikely that there's anymore hostiles on this floor. Splitting up is our best option currently, we'll cover more ground that way.” Famous last words. I didn't object to the awful plan, and trudged down a corridor in silence. 

Why the gunners decided to attack the Brotherhood was impossible to tell. Either sheer insanity or a major fuck-up. Sure they were well armed, but they didn't have any vertibirds, infinite fusion cores, and not to mention, a fucking blimp. Yet something made them confident that they could win picking a fight with the meanest kids on the playground. Why would anyone do that? 

The gunners were mercs anyway, so they'd only do something if they were being paid. Their mystery employer must have scared them more than the Brotherhood to take the job in the first place. That's how mercs operated in Vegas and DC anyway. The gunners didn't seem too different from the Black Talon Company. Both sounded like fucking dumb groups.

At least their deaths were making me not as empty, as if the blood I spilt filled me. Although, they wouldn't let me live if they found me.

 

* * *

 

 

They found me. 

And caught me. 

It was quite funny when I was literally hit in the face with a wooden plank. 

Even funnier when I didn't die.

Waking up strapped to a table wasn't one of the worst things I had awoken to. After all, I had married Viccy. The years before that were actual slavery, but at the time, I was never truly free around her. Shooting her was a mercy, and I had never found the strength to bury her.

 Maybe that was the master stroke of everything Viccy did. The torture, the days of starvation and locked in a cage, they did nothing to sever the connection I thought we shared. That connection- that weakness- led to her lying on the ground, baking in the desert. It wasn't merciful, and I remembered as I walked away with a cloud of dust settling on top of my blood soaked boots, I had felt a tinge of regret. 

The regret wasn't because I had killed her, but because I hadn't drawn her death out. An eye for an eye, in the most clichéd sense, although it was a fitting example. 

Everything had come full circle. Viccy was back, and she was hurting people. And what was I doing? Technically, I was doing nothing because I couldn't do anything as a captive. Deeper than that, I was trying to ignore the situation. I was meant to be saving Piper, but after what had happened, what Viccy did to me, I couldn't find it in myself to carry on. 

“And this is why you should let me in.” He whispered. The bastard was on my blind side, probably mocking me with the piercing eyes He flaunted like a trophy. 

“You know why I won't do that.” I replied, struggling against my restraints. My arms were securely fastened to each side of the table, and the rope that bound me was tougher than I had anticipated. 

“Because you're afraid of the consequences. Blah blah blah. Stop being so virtuous, it's not a good look on you.” He taunted, His voice carrying across the room. Emerging into my vision, He leant down, staring at me with the haunting gaze I had loathed for so many years. 

“You keep on repressing parts of you. What good did that ever do you? Sure, Vegas was normal, but it was wrong. You ignored me and that led you to Viccy. You ignored me again, when I told you to draw out her death. And again, you ignored me every time I tried to get you to let me in. Look where that's gotten you!” Outstretching His arms, He twirled around fluidly, like a ghost flowing through the wind. That's all He was, nothing more than a ghost.

 Not replying, I turned my head, focusing on the equally dark side of the room, which was illuminated by a ghoulish, red light. 

“Grimm, if you let me in, you'll be whole. I'll cease to exist. Doesn't that tempt you in the slightest?”

Before I could even process the offer, I heard gruff voices grow closer. 

“So he's the guy we're meant to bring to our crazy new boss?” Wow, someone was looking for me? Nobody aside from Viccy was looking for me. Which seemed pretty likely that she had employed the gunners to raid Goodneighbor, and attack the Brotherhood. Although, a certain Wise Guy would most certainly care about dragging me back into some crazy scheme. 

“Well, he's tall, wears glasses and has a fucking pink bag. That's pretty specific Ryder.” Coming into view, two bastards with squashed, brutish faces peered at me with curiosity. 

“You know how many people want this bastard?” The gunner with greasy, silver hair groaned.

“Aside from the psychopath, there was that courier who delivered that message from out West. And that raider bastard. Everyone's offering a higher price than the boss lady.” Now, even more people wanted me. I could count on one hand the amount of people who wanted to see me. Most of them wanted to kill me. 

“Excuse me,” I said politely, “but if you fine gentlemen could let me know what's going on, it would be helpful.” Blinking innocently and slowly, I tapped the sides of the table calmly, like I was having a regular day. Irritated, the other gunner, who could only be described as inbred, with little to no chin, and wide, misshapen ears, whacked me with a pipe. Laughing, I sucked in large amounts of air as I was repeatedly beaten. 

“That's enough, Ryder. You don't want to end up like the captain do you?” Whatever happened to “the captain” must have left an impression on Ryder, because he dropped his pipe and frowned childishly. The other, who's name I gave no shits about discovering, carried on talking. “Good. Now, we're in a bit of a fix here. Our boss, who we're all terrified of, is looking for you. The only problem is that so are others. The majority of my colleagues want to hand you over to the boss. But the less logical want to sell you to the highest bidder.”

 I nodded thoughtfully, following along with the explanation. “

So what we're proposing is a lot better! You help us kill our boss, and we let you go. Does that sound fair?” Biting my lip, I ran through the pros and cons of dealing with the “boss lady”. Plus side, I'd get allies, and mercs were never dishonest. For scumbags, they definitely kept their word. Maybe because they wouldn't attract business if they killed ex-employers. Well, I was the one being employed, but as long as I played ball, they wouldn't kill me. 

“I'd shake your hand, but I'm a bit tied up at the moment. As long as you keep the hillbilly over there under control, I'll kill your boss. So who is she?” I knew for a fact that Ryder didn't agree with the decision, but he was too stupid to voice it. He was the muscle after all, and it was clear that the man holding his leash had gotten into deep shit from his way with words. I couldn't disagree really, he was holding all the cards, but I was lucky that I was given a way out. 

“She's only the worst person you'll ever meet.” I knew someone who could beat that. “We're talking about pink hair, tortures people for fun, and generally a scary lady. She spent three days killing our boss, and we didn't even know about it until she threw the body off the roof-” Of course it was Viccy. The gunner continued, but my mind was elsewhere. Why would Viccy hire mercs? She never believed in hired help. Maybe getting rid of Goodneighbor was a good idea, and it provided less people to help me. An unknown variable such as the anarchistic town was an immediate threat to Victoria, meaning it had to be destroyed. The Brotherhood was a different case though. They wouldn't provide any allies unless I joined them, but I wouldn't ever do such a thing. There was only one ally who would help though, which was Joy. 

“That's very clever.” He mumbled, scratching His face. “Attacking patrols will take out the knights, which means that if Joy wouldn't be killed in a patrol, she'd die rescuing the survivors, or attacking the main base. If the Brotherhood escalated the situation, the gunners would be eradicated, and Viccy can get out of the situation with an easy face swap.” It didn't guarantee Joy's death, but it gave a possibility. 

Ironically, Viccy was the reason Joy ended up with the Brotherhood. If she hadn't been caught, I would never have had to find that piece of tech from that building, and end up bumping into Joy. Viccy really had fucked up her own plans, which I was glad of. I shuddered at the possibility of what she might have been capable had her plans remained uninterrupted. 

I was still tied down to the table, tasked with killing the gunners’ boss: Viccy. Having already proved impossible, I realised that the gunners wouldn't survive the coming months, and I felt a strange sort of pity for them. Not voicing this, I nodded to the gunner, who was still talking. 

“-and that's how she became the boss. It's only been a month, but somehow she's getting worse.”

“I'll do it.” Sure, it was an agreement based off of a one sided lie. Clasping his hands together, the gunner went to say something, but he found that he couldn't. 

It might have been because of the laser that burned through his face. 

Diplomacy at its finest. 

The inbred gunner screamed at his unknown attacker, but when a rifle slammed into his face, it stopped the shrill screeching. 

“Took you long enough.” I called out to the darkness with no hint of panic. “Could you come over and untie me? My nose is a bit itchy.” Wrinkling my nose, I felt hands cut through my bonds and help me up from the table. Doe looked unimpressed as other Brotherhood members eyed me distastefully. Finally finding relieve from the damn itch, I addressed the five other people in the room. 

“I know what you're thinking.” I walked up to a stony faced scribe, and patted him on the face. “You're welcome for the rescue. And as good looking as I am, I'm not interested in seeing people so stop staring.” 

Yawning, I walked in a random direction. 

“This way!” I had no clue where I was going, but it certainly wasn't towards a vault full of nuka cola. It was towards the fiery pit of hell, where I would inevitably have to face Viccy. For now, I was the fool, running from my past. 

I walked into a brick wall. 

“Not this way then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! So Grimm is an idiot, Viccy is psychotic and Doe is bored out of her fucking mind. Not much has changed since last year. Maybe weekly updates aren't viable, so I'll post when I feel like it. Nonetheless, it's not the greatest chapter but I'm happy with it. Imagine me being happy, this is what it looks like.


	16. Looking for Abuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd give you warnings but I want to leave you hanging.
> 
> That was the warning.

The Brotherhood sure were a lively lot. As soon as we stepped out of the building, they wouldn't shut up. The scribe loved comics, and was happily flicking through an issue I had happily lended him. Two shy initiates held hands, chatting with the knights, and acting completely natural. Energetically, the male knight cleaned his laser rifle, paying more attention to that then his younger subordinates, muttering obnoxiously behind his thick beard. The other knight besides Doe, was….something else. Intense, scary, and just plain aggressive, she sounded angry when talking, and honestly I didn't want to have to interact with her. She was the one who talked the most out of them all, in a twist of fate. I gathered she was the one in charge, much to the chagrin of Doe. Poor girl wanted more leadership and responsibility. Ironically, she wouldn't be able to make tough decisions, purely based off of her thinking. To Doe, everything was black and white. Good and evil, taught by books and logic. Experience, however, showed me that nothing was truly black or white, but grey. Which was entirely fucking corny, not to mention predictable. Sometimes I felt I was in a holovid, although not like the ones from New Reno. 

Those weren't the types one could learn anything from. 

“Unless they were taught someone how to bend a certain way, if you know what I mean.” He cackled, squatting between the knights. Spinning the empty barrel of my revolver, I ignored Him. “I wonder if marshmallows are still around.” As interesting as the question was, I had more philosophical questions to answer. Such as, what the hell was a date?! Even after having a rough explanation from Joy, who's marbles were more or less in her head last time I saw her, I struggled to grasp the concept of how a meal could be romantic. Maybe Joy would explain it to me next time we met. 

Speaking of the strange girl, when was the last time I had seen her? I checked my Pip-boy, seeking the date. December 31st. Shit, I had missed Christmas. Not that it mattered to me. That meant two things. Firstly, I had been in the Commonwealth for two months. Secondly, it was going to be the new year soon. In three hours, to be precise. I never bothered with minutes, it meant compromising. 

Getting back to the topic of Joy, I realised I hadn't spoken to her since she had gone off on some mission which really terrified her. She was technically my only friend, besides Piper, although the latter was still undecided about how she felt towards me. I would have settled with contempt. Joy, however, was a particular problem because she was a friend, and I had no idea how Viccy would deal with her. The gunners would possibly kill her, but after the rescue from their base which resulted in quite a few deaths, I doubted they'd be in any condition to hunt for a single person. The chances were that they'd regroup, and patiently wait for a chance to strike. Yet, they wouldn't do that because Victoria was their leader. 

Not looking up from my pip-boy, I interrupted the group. 

“So what happened to Joy?” An uncomfortable silence washed over everybody, as I freely hummed to a tune I hadn't gotten out of my head. So she was dead, or something bad had happened to her. I wouldn't have been surprised with any outcome, although it would have fucked over the Commonwealth, being it's saviour, the woman out of time. Who even came up with names for the vaulties?! Piper did for Joy, but The Vault Dweller was a bit of a shit name, considering the abundance of vaulties, and a city filled with the fuckers. The Chosen One was a descendant of The Vault Dweller, which meant they weren't necessarily a vaultie, but with a quick stretch of logic, they might has well have been. The Lone Wanderer was an even more screwed up fucker than I was. While not falling under the evil category, the stories I had heard in DC weren't flattering to say the least. Then there was the courier. Well, couriers. That was a whole mess I didn't want to get into, and it needed a sit down with Piper to get all of my thoughts sorted. They were all still shit names, as far as I knew, there would have been way better names than the ones the wasteland called their heroes.

Another reason not to be a hero of the people. The people were not imaginative in the slightest. It was really interesting because I had the chance to come up with a good name for Joy. That'd have to wait, though.

“She came back a few days ago, and has been on leave in Goodneighbor since then.” That wasn't a good sign. Although it was convenient, as I had persuaded the group to escort me to the leaderless town before they flew off to their safe haven. They, as suspected, ignored the fax they needed to resupply due to their lack of stimpaks, ammo and food. Soldiers didn't go on leave unless something had compromised them. What could compromise a prewar insane person? 

The question was answered by the stench of death. 

A gust of wind carried with it the smell of decay, which I- against my better nature- decided to investigate. Slipping away from the group inconspicuously, I followed the scent, as it got stronger the closer I got to the source. 

Part of me, the sane part, wished I hadn't stumbled across a heap of dead bodies, all missing their heads, which were surrounded by ominous looking prams. Shrouded by the darkness, I couldn't see what was in the demonic strollers, but I knew what was on there. I hoped I was wrong. I desperately prayed to the cold, unfeeling void that I was wrong. Creeping closer, I peered into one pram. 

I wasn't wrong. 

Horrified at the sight of a head with its eyes rolled back, I leapt back clumsily. The expression of terror on the victim's face wasn't even the worst part. 

The worst part, was that etched roughly into the flesh was a single word. 

_**SHAUN** _

 

* * *

 

I really had to stop running to and from Goodneighbor. It was pure coincidence that I had to keep on rushing towards the area, but in the future I was going to outright avoid the town. It was a real inconvenience, mainly because the Brotherhood squad would want to know where I had gone, and they weren't a group to mess with. 

Minor issues aside, I had to find Joy, before she hurt anybody else. Like an idiot, I'd put my faith into the Brotherhood to sort out Joy's mental problems. Especially the problem that caused her to decapitate people indiscriminately and freak out over her family. Yet they were incompetent jackasses who repressed or ignored the needs of their peers. My time on the Prydwen helped me in no way, and I could control myself for the most part. Joy, was barely held together. It took her killing a group of people and an attempt on my life to snap back to reality. The same trick wouldn't work twice on her. 

Entering the gates, I felt like I had stepped in on a funeral. The entire town was still, and the chaos once present now lingered in the air like a distant memory. Lamps were dimmed, the colourful neon signs were switched off, and the residents all stared at their feet, their empty hands hanging limply by their sides. 

It seemed like someone had died. 

Oh yeah. 

Hancock died. 

His head was reduced to mush actually, and in the most gruesome way possible, it was comical. Not that I laughed, if I had, I would have looked as fruity as a handful of gumdrops, not to mention the blood spray would have entered my mouth. 

Banishing the undesired thoughts from my head, I hurried into the bar. That's where I would be if I was a broken mess, so that's where Joy was likely to be. Practically sliding down the slippery steps, I found myself witnessing what appeared to be a wake, with candles littered around tables, and people squatting solemnly on the seats, uninterested in the alcohol in front of them. One such couple was Piper and Viccy. The latter skilfully weaved her fingers through Piper's and stroked them sympathetically. Noticing me first, she winked at me and her mouth parted slightly, something she used to do when thinking about…..certain topics. Leaving the table silently, and whispering to her unwitting victim, she maintained eye contact with me, making me shift uncomfortably under the pressure. Making one last sweep with my eye, I deduced Joy wasn't in the bar. Damn, I'd have to look. After I escaped Viccy, that was.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” my wife murmured, clasping my hand tightly. Dragging me up the stairs, Viccy pushed me against a locker, forcing her lips onto mine. Pushing her back, I wiped my lips and pressed my revolver against her head. 

“Careful, careful, darling.” She chided, softly caressing my cheek. “You still don't know where your sister is.” Tempted to pull the trigger, I shrugged. 

“I can wait.” I growled. Killing Viccy was more important than finding someone. Sure, there was a chance my sister would die before I found her. No skin off my back, I hadn't seen her in years. Yet, it was a difficult decision to make, because the loneliness and hopelessness of being the only surviving member of my family crushed me, and in the vast wastes, the chance of our paths crossing was virtually nothing. Reconciling that, I was about to pull the trigger when Viccy spoke again. 

“What about Piper?” 

“She doesn't know I'm here, so you could have died from anybody. I'll leave the Commonwealth, and she'll never see me again.” Neither would Nat, or Joy. Joy, the insane person who was suffering. Fuck, now was not the time to start caring! I tried telling myself that I meant nothing to them, and they meant nothing to me, but I was failing. I had laughed with Joy, and she made me feel less isolated. Piper was the same, and she cared about me in her own aggressive way. Was I really willing to throw away a chance of redemption for my shit show of a life just for vengeance? 

Yes. 

The gun clicked. 

Eyes widening, I pulled the trigger multiple times, each time producing a pitiful pop. I never loaded the gun. Kissing me fiercely, Viccy snatched the revolver from me and threw it to the floor. Gripping my hands, she curled her leg around mine, quickening her pace. Squirming, I tried to escape, but I knew I was at her mercy. Suddenly, she broke away, laughing darkly.

“As much as I want to fuck you, you've got the poor little vaultie to help. It'll be so much sweeter when she does die.” Picking up my revolver, I glared at Viccy.

“What did you do?” I demanded, panic filling me. Her laughter rising, she put her arms around my waist and closed the distance between us. 

“She was sad, and I told her that the pain would end if she died. That was two minutes ago, you might catch her at the Hotel Rexford down the alley, or find her being the ceiling’s newest decoration. Really-” I never heard Viccy finish because I was out on the streets by then. Registering a sign which announced the building it was advertising was the hotel, I slammed open the doors, and hysterically threw a bagful of caps on the counter. 

“She's upstairs, third door on the left.” an old woman grunted, taking the caps. I didn't even have to ask. Following the directions, I shot the lock on Joy's door. Struggling, with bloody hands, the vault dweller- my friend- was dangling from the ceiling fan. Picking up a fallen chair, I gripped her legs and pushed upwards, relieving the pressure on her neck. Stepping on the chair, I frantically untied the knot. 

“If you die, I'll fucking kill you!” I yelled, as the rope released the light Joy. Worryingly, she weighed nothing, allowing me to pick her up without any hassle. Like a fragile doll, I laid her down on the bed and watched for any sign of life in those dull, empty eyes. A frail hand shakily landed over mine, and soon, Joy was holding me tightly, sobbing into my shoulder. 

“Kill me.” she whispered, over and over. “Kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me.” It was an endless loop, rising in volume, until she was screaming at the top of her lungs. Silently, I held her, stroking her hair and rocking her back and forth. Her hands scraped my shoulders painfully, but I held back the reaction, and focused on the breakdown in front of me. Joy's voice became rough and coarse, causing her begs of release to become harsh and blunt, grating against my soul. She continued for an hour, weeping and pleading for me to end her life. By the time she had finished, her eyelids sleepily wavered, indicating how exhausted she was. Her glasses didn't cover the dark rims around her eyes, nor did they cover the gauntness of her face. I felt her ribs stick out, and I realised that she hadn't eaten in a long time. Pulling purified water out of my bag, I opened the can and held it to Joy's cracked lips. She was in no position to refuse, and she greedily gulped down the fluid, tears staining her pretty face. I had shared the last of my cram with Doe and her comrades, so I went to get up and search for food for Joy. Stopping me with a soft brush of her hand, she stopped me with a single word. 

“Stay.” 

So I stayed. Helping the vault dweller under the sheets, I found myself under them too, staring at the ceiling wordlessly. Huddled next to me, sleep soon captured Joy, leaving me alone to combat the darkness. I wanted to help her, I really did, but I suffered from the same thing she did. 

What help could I give her when we both thought the same thing?

I glanced one last time at Joy, who wore a dress- the first normal thing I saw her wear. I was determined to help her stay alive, even if Viccy wished for the opposite. Even if Joy herself wished for the opposite. Guilt enveloped me. I wouldn't be any help to her. She wouldn't be any help to me. I didn't care. 

We both wanted to die. 

But that was alright. 

Because I made it my mission to ensure at least Joy wouldn't. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like posting, so I'm posting this fine ol' mess of a chapter. It's a dark story but I never expected it to be this dark. Time for crappy fluff! I'm now in the mood for cotton candy. Have a good one!


	17. She was Dancing with the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if a chapter had no angst or death in it? This is what happens.

2288\. I was going to be another year older in a few days, and I dreaded it. Running my hands over my face- which really needed a shave- I stared at the crumbling ceiling, the mildew spreading chaotically and filling the cracks with their vile darkness. Counting the speckles of evil, I wished to avoid the thoughts of my age and the woman breathing shallowly beside me. Joy's head nuzzled against my shoulder, and occasionally she murmured sleepily, her face torn in a panicked frown. Soothing her by stroking her hair, I decided that ignoring the problem right beside me was literally impossible.

Helping Joy was going to be a tough task. Maybe I would have to investigate the “date” business, and set something up. I'd have to ask someone who knew what that was. Prewar ghouls usually did.

Getting out of bed subtly, I looked back at Joy, and shook my head. I had no fucking clue how I was going to help her. Didn't stop me from trying. Groaning at the busted lock on the door, I made my way back down to the lobby, quietly slipping another bag of caps on the table to pay for damages. I was running short on caps again, stealing from Viccy and Piper when they weren't looking was a smart choice, but I only had around three hundred of the fuckers left. I wasn't going anywhere, so I would have to do some odd jobs to scrounge for some more caps. Another great day to be alive.

The chilly winter air cleared my head, although the atmosphere was still tense. Goodneighbor was a powder keg waiting to go off, and I had no intentions of letting Joy getting caught in that explosion. When did I start to care for people?

“After Joy treated you like a normal person.” He grunted, His eyes lingering at the entrance of the bar Vikki was in. After promptly telling Him to fuck off, I couldn't help but reflect on what He said. Funny how often I was doing that. No sane person would listen to the voice in their head, or agree with it.

Piper used me as some emotional sponge, which I had to admit hurt slightly. She couldn't see past who I reminded her of, and I doubted she actually saw me as anything other than that. Talk about unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Joy's weren't much better. A random murder spree **_was_ ** more upfront than what Piper did, however. The vaultie was also more reliable and less emotionally incapable.

“The question I ask myself,” He leant against a lamppost, twiddling his thumbs, “is why are you comparing the two? I know the answer obviously, but it'd be much easier if you just killed Piper instead of figuring out who Vikki will kill by the end of this whole mess.That way, you can kill Victoria easily!”

Easier said than done. Morality wasn't my strong suit- I'd stolen enough items to be classed as a thief- yet I wasn't an evil monster. I wasn't out to save my own skin if it meant I'd have to sacrifice others. If anything, a part of me would end up dying trying to save others.

Dispelling any more wonderful thoughts from my mind, I spotted the ghoul who I was looking for. Smiling at me, she pressed her hands on the counter.

“Hey, little courier, what can I do for you?” she rasped cheerfully. I returned the grin, and whistled slowly.

“I'm in a bit of a fix. I need to know what a good idea for a date is.” The ghoul’s lips twitched in amusement, and her eyebrows would have been raised had they not have been seared off.

“Girl trouble?” Blankly, I stared at the shopkeeper. I had no idea what that meant, although I did have trouble with the woman that was going to kill me.

“I guess?” I answered, making it clear that I was confused.

“Well, it depends on the girl.” The ghoul looked at me, obviously expecting more detail. “So? What does she like?” Aside from murdering people, being obsessed over her dead husband and her kidnapped son, Joy wasn't really into much. Well, she was from the old world. People from the back-when times liked dancing, baseball, reading, and bowling. Bowling was definitely out. Last time I attempted bowling I was sentenced to death for heresy. The looks on the cultists’ faces as I hurled their deity down a bowling alley was worth the punishment.

That left baseball, reading and dancing.

Baseball was a no go purely because the closest baseball stadium was a shanty town so it would be quite hard to play it. Reading always cheered me up, but Joy never seemed to share my love for comic books.

“Dancing.” I blurted out. I could dance. Dancing was basically swaying back and forth slowly to music. Easy!

“Well, all you have to do is have a radio, and somewhere nice to dance. It ain't fancy, but it's the best you got.” Cogs were turning in my head. After finally figuring out how to use my pip-boy to some extent, I had a working radio. All that was left was location. There wasn't a lot of choice, really. To the left was radioactive rubble, and to the right was **_also_ ** radioactive rubble. Since it was such a tough choice, I had to spend a few moments deciding which hunk of rubble I'd settle for. Looking at the crumbling scenery around me, I huffed childishly.

“This isn't going to work.” He murmured, dancing mockingly with a mannequin. Something was definitely going wrong if He could pull stuff out of nowhere. Ignoring the comically worrying thing going on besides me, I made my decision.

“Is there anybody using those buildings over there?” I pointed to the row of buildings clustered together.

“Only a few rats, I'll pay you good money if you get rid of them. They're hurting my business and have been creeping through the town causing a few problems.” Rats wouldn't be hard to deal with. So I had a vague plan sorted out in the hastiest way possible. Perfect!

Thanking the ghoul, I sauntered away, preparing myself for the easy task that was pest control.

An hour later, I found myself stuffing a gangster corpse into a dumpster, swearing loudly.

“Fucking get in!” I cursed, shoving the body into the overflowing container. The others had easily gone in, but the sheer amount of gangsters made it awkward to fit them all in. “Rats” apparently meant “idiots dressed up as mobsters”, and I didn't get the message. Not until I walked into a room with five guns pointed at me. Getting rid of them wasn't a problem, but stashing the remains was tricky. I had only one dumpster as well!

“Shitty, shit shit shit!” I kicked the corpse in frustration, sending a hand flying into the air. Flopping back down with the grace of a squid, the appendage gestured rudely to me. Pouting, I gave up trying to hide the bodies. They were already hidden, just so long as nobody walked into the dark back alley that I was in.

My plan was taking shape, but I only had a few hours before Joy woke up. I knew for a fact that when I was on the Prydwen, she'd sleep until late afternoon. That gave me a few hours to do whatever I needed.

Walking out of alley, and towards the ghoul’s store, I beamed with pride at the thought of doing something that wasn't filled with gloom and doom. Reaching the ghoul, I placed a blood stained tie in front of her.

“Only the Triggermen could have such poor taste in clothing.” she tutted, sliding over a bag of caps.

“Sorry to bother you more, but do you have any tools, like a saw or rope? I'm willing to pay you.” Scratching her head thoughtfully, the ghoul looked around her store.

“I think I have a toolbox, I won't charge you if you're just borrowing it. Goodness knows that I don't use it.” Disappearing out of sight for a moment, she returned with a metal box with “Daisy” etched into it. Daisy, as she was now called, handed me the tools and gave a passing remark.

“Good luck with your girl! I need some good news for a change!”

Lumbering the large heavy box into the buildings that had become recently vacant, I cracked my knuckles, slid off my jacket, and began to work. Joy was going to have a great day if it was going to kill me!

 

* * *

 

“Joy. Wake up silly.” The woman shifted slightly, but did not move. Nudging her encouragingly, I raised my voice a little higher. “I've got a surprise for you.” Wrapping more covers around her, Joy didn't respond. Well attempted suicide wasn't going to be the easiest thing to Jorecover from. At least properly. All the more reason to help her.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I traced lines along my face, just below my ruined eye.

“You know, I can't dance, but I can sway. I'm an excellent swayer.” Closing the gap between us, I continued my idle talk. “So I thought to myself ‘hey, we could go on a date’ so you and I will sway to corny music, whilst exchanging increasingly sarcastic remarks.” An almost silent sound escaped from the vaultie, and she shuffled around to gaze at me with a hollow expression.

“I'm a mess.” Joy sniffed, hiding her lower face with the duvet.

“I'm a mess all the time! Dates don't have to be fancy, although I am wearing my fancy socks today.” Wiggling my eyebrows, I noticed that her face brightened for a fleeting moment, and I took it as a sign of progress.

“A date, huh?”

“Yep, you'll miss out on swaying and my fancy socks if you don't go with me.” They were very nice socks, nice enough to loot from a Triggerman.

“I don't feel like it. Sorry.” Not giving up, I nudged Joy with my hand, coaxing her to come out of her self inflicted prison.

“There'll be food, and it's just the two of us. Nobody else.” If I knew Joy, and I had to admit that I didn't- there wasn't a lot I actually could say about her past- I knew that the thought of being alone with me was extremely enticing. No idea why, though. I would have thought that it was because of my amazing stories.

“Just the two of us?” she repeated wistfully, her face poking out from underneath the covers. With an affirmative grunt, I stood up and stretched, gaining a satisfying feeling as I heard my joints pop loudly.

“Well, maybe for a little while.” was the eventual response. Hesitantly, Joy shakily crawled out of the bed with the covers still draped over her.

Yawning sheepishly, she slid into the bathroom, dragging clothes with her. Patiently, I waited, and occupied myself by checking up on my supplies in my faded bag. The pink was not as vibrant, and it was only a matter of time until it snapped and became a liability. Sentimentality kept it by my side, though- nothing would part me from it apart from death. Even then, I'd still fight to keep it with me as I went to hell.

In the bag was my usual boring supplies, but I was more interested in the crumpled comics stuffed in the bottom of it. According to the ones concerning dates- specifically the Silver Shroud and the Mistress of Mystery. Although, their date was a two day long stakeout. They were the greatest of allies, and I was hoping to make Joy as valued as the Shroud made his best friend.

“I'm ready.” Joy wearily called out, wearing regular clothes. It was strange to see her in a green shirt, casually standing with her thumbs hooked in the pockets of her dirt stained slacks.

“Your hair's a mess.” I pointed out, walking up to her. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, I walked towards the out of the room. “You coming?” With a red face and a rigid posture, Joy let out a high pitched squeak and followed me. That was….weird.

Walking out of the hotel, a bitter chill shot up my spine, and I imagined Joy felt it too, as she clung to my arm nervously. The miserable weather did not dampen my determination, and it became clear that my enthusiasm was noticed by my friend when she appeared interested in what we were doing.

“So, where are we going?” The length of “So” might have been considered strange, but I had come to enjoy the quirkiness that was Joy.

“To Canada,” I chuckled, “where everything smells of maple syrup. You'd be surprised by how long the stuff lasts. Two hundred years later and syrup is more common than water up there.” Joy let out a snort in disbelief as we neared the building. “It's true! Canada is a paradise compared to hear. Even the cannibals are apologetic, although they won't eat you if you're covered in maple syrup.” We laughed as we stumbled out of the cold, and into the comparative warmth of the indoors. Taking Joy by the hand, I hurried up the multiple flights of stairs, eager to show her what I had prepared. At the top, where the rubble had blocked off the staircase, was a rope dangling from a hole in the ceiling. It had taken a shameful amount of time to set it up. Tugging it firmly, I let go of Joy and began to climb the rope.

“The only way is up!” I declared, clearly mad with excitement. Joy followed my actions, and as I helped her steady herself on the roof, she gasped at the fairy tale in front of her. On top of a salvaged table, was a jar of some glowy thing I had bought from Daisy- I didn't ask- she didn't tell. Other jars filled with the stuff were strewn across the roof, lighting the place up with a green hue. Crackling softly with slow, sweet music was my pip-boy, which happened to also be neatly resting on the table.

“Surprise” I murmured, dangling two bottles of nuka cola in front of Joy. Shakily, she looked at me.

“You did all this for me?” Bringing her towards the table, feigned ignorance.

“Who? Me? Of course I did! I just thought it'd be nice to get you to smile. Smiling helps, according to prewar studies.” Delighted, she sat down as I did, and circled the rim of the jar with her finger.

“You're crazy. Thank you, Grimm.” Cracking open the bottles and passing one to her, I shook my head.

“It's no big deal. You **_did_ ** miss Christmas after all, and knowing you, you don't get out much for fun.”

“I'm not that much fun.” Joy admitted. Downing my drink, I disagreed with her with a stern gaze.

“Your name's Joy for crying out loud! You're the embodiment of fun!” Sipping at her drink, she made a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a laugh, before knitting her eyebrows together.

“Does that mean that with a name like Grimm, you're always glum?” she asked coyly.

“Totally. I'm mostly sarcastic and bitter, with a **_hint_ ** of kindness.” Squishing my fingers together, I showed Joy what part of me was actually not a prick. Snorting in between bouts of laughter, she playfully punched me from across the table.

“Nah, you're the kindest person out here, honey.” She obviously didn't remember the time I nearly killed her. “You've been really helpful and I definitely wouldn't be here if you hadn't shown up.” The look in her eyes confused me, because it was a sincere, honest look but it wasn't sorrowful. It was the kind of expression only truly innocent people- like babies or the naïve- could show and understand. Damn it, the word was on the tip of my tongue. Something beginning with an “L”.

“Well, you saved my hide a few times, so that would make you the kindest person out here.” The sparkle in her eyes seemed to glow brighter and more intensely, making me feel uneasy.

“Sugar, you're nice. Don't make me kiss you until you agree.”

“Wait what?” Flirty? Nope, that didn't begin with an “L”. I was close though, definitely in the right ballpark. “Lust” began with an “L”, but the look was too pure, too happy and a completely different kind of need filled her eyes. It was beginning to infuriate me, to the point where I brushed off Joy's previous comment.

“I was promised swaying, Grimm.” she chided accusingly, as if I had lied to her. Thudding my empty bottle down, I theatrically got down on one knee and held out my hand.

“May I have this dance?” As the song that was playing made way for a gentle melody, Joy took my hand, and curtseyed. Leading her away from the table and towards a circle of the glowing jars, we positioned ourselves so that we were in a somewhat, correct stance. Did dancers pose? Take positions? Well, nobody in the wasteland could dance, so “positioned” was the word I was going to use. Nobody could stop me! With one hand clutching Joy's, and the other above her hip, we rocked from side to side, the vaultie’s face pressed against my shoulder. I almost didn't notice her lower my hands to below her hips. **_Almost_ **.

“Thanks, seriously.” she whispered breathily, looking up at me. “I've been so lost, and everything has gone wrong. I've lost so much, and everyone's gone in the end. Even Piper. My one constant is **_you_ **. You're the only one who's kept me safe, and kept me sane. You accept me.” Laugh, llama, lecture. None of them was the word I was looking for.

Then I looked into Joy's eyes and I knew.

Oh fuck, she was in lo-

My thoughts were cut off when she kissed me.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I can now officially add fluff to the tags. God, I don't even know how they work! It's Fallout, I'm not exactly expecting a lot of fluff.  
> Have a good day whenever you are. Time travelling still hasn't been banned so this is the best place to travel to. They banned pizza in the 31st century. Basically a dystopian society over there.


End file.
